


just a stranger

by juanpercen



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Aged up characters, M/M, Running Away, Semi Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, angst with happy ending, smoking and drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juanpercen/pseuds/juanpercen
Summary: "I want to keep going. I really do. But where do I go?"Yeonjun's answer was simple, his tone light as he whispers the words in his ears, "To me."He holds Soobin's face between his hands, gently wiping his tears away, "Because we're strangers."Somewhere between unexpected meetings, unexpected places and unexpected timings, they find something more than what they saught for.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 24
Kudos: 116





	1. in this lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> tw // charac death, major illness, strong words, implied sexual content
> 
> \- the author takes the liberty to describe the places mentioned  
> \- this was inspired by a story titled retrograde tomorrow and a filo movie titled just a stranger  
> \- author made the characters older for the sake of the plot
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. 
> 
> Beta-ed. Still, forgive typographical and grammatical errors.
> 
> Enjoy reading :)

_you're caught in time but time moves on_

_all broken glass and stalling gear_

_like a clock urging itself to persevere_

Choi Soobin has lots of crazy ideas, borderline dangerous and today's that time of the year again.

It comes with The 1975's songs on full blast, giant fan at the window. For some reason, it's not as chaotic as Soobin thought it'd turn out, in fact, it kind of excites him. He was standing behind the giant fan, holding a bag full of big crisp bills. Soobin thinks, he's not supposed to feel excited, not when he's about to cause a big trouble like this. He's not sure about the aftermath, but Soobin's sure, he could live.

He's wearing a big smirk when he jumped from his room's balcony while dragging his two luggages, adrenaline making his moves a little more rushed.

When he got to his car, he heard screams of his name tailing him. He doesn't particularly care though. Before he drove away, he rolled his windows down and rested his arm on it, waiting for his bodyguards to see him. When they did, he raised his middle finger.

"Bye assholes!"

He drives away. That day, he turned up a giant fan and let it snow cash from the windows.

-

He knows what he's doing, he got this, Soobin have to repeatedly remind himself.

Choi Soobin is all about bad decisions and bad ideas. He thinks he's realizing the whole lot meaning of that right now, standing in front of Incheon International Airport, sunglasses sliding on the bridge of his nose and hoodie hiding half of his face.

"Fuck," Soobin curses, biting his lips hard while looking around.

Incheon at one o'clock midnight is bustling with people too busy to throw a lone man a look or give attention to. Soobin feels like he's going to get exposed anytime soon but in reality, none of these people really cares about him and the gut-clenching turmoil inside him—like his organs are twisting around inside his stomach.

Fight or flight.

But Soobin has always been a rebel. There's nothing to choose. He's going and he's going to leave every piece of doubt behind him.

Okay, then. Fight and flight.

Soobin furrows his brows and exhales heavily, straightening his hunched back, "Holy fuck, okay, let's do this."

-

"Fan of The 1975?"

Soobin jumps from his seat when a passenger beside him speaks conversationally. He turns to look at the man and arches a brow.

"What?" Soobin asks dumbly, pointing at himself.

It came out sounding silly, but Soobin was startled.

He raises a brow at the man and blatantly drags his eyes up and down his figure, checking him out. He seizes him, concludes that they are almost the same age. Sharp eyes. Striking blue hair. And thick lips.

Soobin knows a good looking man when he sees one.

"Did you not hear me?" The man beside him grins.

It's innocent, friendly even. There's no reason for Soobin to be rude, but this man unknowingly irks him.

"I'm not interested," states Soobin.

He knows this type of men. He knows what they want. And really, it's not new to him.

This man is obviously hitting on him.

There's no issue with him being a man because Soobin definitely swings that way. But he's currently on the run right now and he couldn't afford to play around, even if he wanted to.

This blue-haired man looks just his type and it's a bummer, Soobin has to reject him.

Next time, stranger.

"Interested in what?" The man is looking at him amusedly; he clearly knows what Soobin meant.

"In you," Soobin bites his cheek to stop a smirk from growing, "I'm not interested in you."

Soobin watches him confusedly when he suddenly laughs. He notes that his eyes disappear when he laughs, his cheeks bunching up and thick lips stretching all the way to his ears. He sounds funny though; the sight would've been attractive.

Why's he laughing?

"I'm not interested in you either," His lips are slightly shaking to stop himself from laughing.

Soobin blinks, looking away to hide the way blood rushes to his face.

"I'm asking if you're a fan because I'd like to borrow the clicker," the man explains, a hint of amused giggle still bubbling in his throat.

Embarrassed, Soobin hisses and turns away from the guy, aggressively wearing his headphones back on again.

He throws him an annoyed look when he taps him on the shoulder.

"The clicker," the man mouthed, his laugh muted in Soobin's red ears.

"Go the fuck away," glares Soobin.

The guy raised his arms, surrendering, and plastered a smile that only further ticks him off, "Chill."

Soobin turns away from him, completely pissed. He turns his body away from the man to the window, rudely moving on his seat.

For the rest in his first-time riding an economy class flight, Soobin ignores the annoying passenger beside him.

As he shuts his eyes tightly, Matthew's voice rang in his ears.

_Wide awake before I found you_

_(This must be my dream)_

_I can't wait for you boy_

_(Wake me from my dream)_

-

Soobin have only one Plan and it's stupid, he admits that. He doesn't even have a solid contingency plan. Just a Plan with a capital P.

Wow, Soobin doesn't know where the hell he is going with this Plan, literally and figuratively.

As of now, he was wincing at the sheer heat that welcomed him in Los Angeles, California. His hoodie is still hiding his face, at least now, he have a reason to wear sunglasses but that's beside the point because the problem right now is that Soobin have no idea where to go now.

He doesn't have anything right now with him except his clothes, a bag full of cash, mobile phone without a sim and one junk food.

Great. This is going great, really.

Soobin gnaws his lips, thinking. He have to find a decent place to stay and figure out what to do next and maybe freak out for the next 24 hours but you didn't heard that from Soobin. Nope.

Okay. Now for the grand reveal of his Plan. Soobin is a simple person who lives by simple principles and simple beliefs, so the plan too, was simple, of course.

Run away as far the fuck he can. That's it. That's the Plan.

Now, how to execute it was a whole lot different thing.

Where should he go from here?

He taps his feet on the ground, pursing his lips. He can't use internet, god, that was the most annoying thing he ever have to do but he has to if he doesn't want to get caught. Asking around would be too weird too, just thinking about it makes Soobin cringe at the embarrassment.

Right now, his phone was literally useless. He only has his instinct and brain to trust, though, that's highly doubtful too. His brain tends to malfunction every ten minutes and that's the fucking truth.

Okay. He has to resort to finding a hotel by foot then. Or a cheap motel. Since he have to save money, and maybe look for a job while at it. Jesus, it's so easy thinking about it but in reality, Soobin have no enough functioning brain cell to know how to do that.

He doesn't even know any job. It's not his fault he was born with a golden spoon. Everything he wanted was given to him in silver platter. But that was all in the past now, what matters right now is he have to survive.

Right. Survive. He's good at survival, he can live with this.

He just have to think this is a challenge and Soobin loves challenges, he doesn't back out from any of it. He's god fuck afraid, that's a given. Soobin wasn't born independent, he doesn't know how to be independent. But he has to learn now.

He's not going back to Seoul, to that empty house and empty people.

In the end, Soobin cheers himself by repeatedly telling himself to feel the fear and do it anyway.

Miraculously, he finds an apartment squished in between a cheap grocery store and a cheap pizza restaurant. Its sign flashing _rent still available_ hanging crookedly at the window that looks like it has been through the worst years.

Soobin gulps and walks in, an old lady holding a chromatic yellow tulip welcoming him.

"Oh, hello dear."

Soobin almost felt scared with the way the woman beamed at him but he lives.

He was able to rent a decent room in the second floor, the rent so cheap Soobin almost backs out.

What is he supposed to expect in his rented room, a rotting bed and a rat?

When Soobin got inside his room, he thinks he could live with this.

For like, 5 minutes.

Soobin winces, scratching his temple. He looks around, taking in the faded yellow walls, the bed on the floor and the living room and kitchen literally sharing the same space.

Soobin bites his lips to get rid of the urge to retch.

He exhales a huge breath out and forced himself to get on with it.

"Home sweet home," he whispers, rolling his eyes.

He settled his things down, fixing some things the way he wants them to be. Thankfully, the room has enough furnitures and appliances, though, empty. Like his fridge. The closet. His stomach.

Oh, wow, he's hungry.

Soobin gets his phone first, turning his volume up, clicking the first song he sees in his playlist, then grabs the junk food in his bag and jammed.

_Now playing: People by The 1975_

_Wake up, wake up, wake up_

_It's Monday morning and we've only got a thousand of them left_

_Well I know it feels pointless and you don't have any money_

_But we're all just gonna try our fucking best_

-

Soobin is surviving, he deems it enough. On his third day of stay in his cheap as fuck room in a cheap as fuck apartment, he decides to start moving his ass already to find a decent job and an easy job, maybe.

He doesn't have any idea what he needs to bring to apply. Does he just have to simply present himself? Soobin have zero idea but he has to try.

Go home big or go home hungry.

That's the only thought in Soobin's mind as he left.

He doesn't have a car so it annoys him a great deal to walk to his destination by foot. Plus, he doesn't even know where he should be looking for a job in the first place.

Soobin is really bad at having Plans. He groans internally. He has to think, _think!_

His brain cells are having none of it.

He pauses at the side of the street, clicking his tongue. Okay, so, he's been to USA before. He thinks of a place where there are lots of business people.

Soobin have a place in mind but he's not certain, but when was he ever sure. He scratches his neck and squints at the sky.

Here goes nothing, he sighs.

Getting to Santa Monica was easy since the opening of the new Expo Metro Line, connecting downtown LA to it. When he got there though, he still has no idea where to go first.

Four hours later, he was a sweating mess. He's pouting, sitting at one of the benches in Third Street Promenade.

He can't believe no one hired him, no one! Not even one! Soobin knows he's clueless when it comes to jobs like those but he's no fool, he's smart and he's hard working! (kind of) And he's good looking, that should be a plus.

He doesn't know what else to do and he's tired already. And hungry.

Never once in his life had he ever said out loud that he was hungry because he has never been starved before, he can't believe this day would come.

He resorted on watching people and street performers instead. He wishes he could transport himself back to the days he went here for vacation. Not for something like this.

Not to escape.

He also wasted his money for the fare. He crunches his face and sighs heavily. He was startled when a dog, a labrador retriever suddenly started sniffing at his feet, immediately cooing at it.

"Oh, boy, you're alone too? Where's your owner?" He coos, the dog barks at him as if answering.

Soobin laughs at that, petting the dog's head. That's when he noticed a dog tag around its head, something that says Puma in incredibly bright colors.

"Is Puma your name?" The dog barked again, licking his knee.

Soobin nods, looking around, "That means you have an owner, Puma, come, I'll help you find them."

He stands up, carrying Puma in his arms. He smiles brightly at the dog, he feels incredibly happy when it leans on him more as if it trusts him.

Small happiness.

Soobin went to a Lost and Found booth, the lady in charge immediately announcing a lost dog.

While waiting, Soobin entertains himself by playing with Puma. The dog lifts his spirits up especially that it seemed to be enjoying his company. Looking at Puma, Soobin hopes he can be like him. He doesn't have any worries. He doesn't have glaring problems. Soobin suddenly wants to be a dog.

Or a cat.

Or whatever. He's losing his mind because he's hungry.

Soobin jumps when someone suddenly taps him on the shoulder, turning around fast than courtesy allows.

"That's my—"

Soobin quickly stands up, furrowing his brows when he came face to face with a man with striking blue hair, sharp eyes, thick lips...

Wait, he's familiar.

"Asshole," Soobin whispers.

"Sorry, what?" The man frowns at him, staring back and forth from Soobin to his dog, still in his arms.

"You were that asshole in the airplane," Soobin realizes.

He unconsciously labeled the man as that inside his head since then. Only because he made Soobin feel embarrassed, it still makes his toes curl and ears go red whenever he remembers.

It's funny though.

Meeting him again.

The man was wearing a black tee, shorts, a cap and holyshit, a Rolex watch. Soobin purses his lips.

Fuck, he was really attractive.

The man furrows his brows when he caught Soobin checking him out for the second time since they met, staring at him hard as if thinking.

Soobin lets him and even caresses Puma's head while waiting.

When his eyes widen, Soobin takes it as a sign of recognition, grinning widely for no particular reason, "Oh, I remember you. You were quiet unforgettable as you were such an annoying seatmate," he says through a smile.

Soobin quickly squints his eyes at that, glaring at him, "If you weren't being annoying."

"Okay but can you hand me my dog now?" The man asks impatiently, raising his brows when Soobin shakes his head.

No the fuck way, he wasn't going to let this man go that easily. He should at least offer a reward, if it was other people, they could've harmed the dog, he was lucky Soobin was the one who found Puma.

Well, actually, it was Puma who found him but whatever, he have to grab this opportunity.

"You're the one who's rude, you're not even going to offer a reward?" Soobin tilts his head, looking accusedly at the man.

It was just reasonable to offer a reward, Soobin thinks if he was the one getting back what he lost, he's going to offer money to the one who found it. That's what decent people do, right?

The man, clearly, doesn't share the same sentiment because he was raising a brow at Soobin, "Are you a fucking child?"

Soobin snickers, "Wow, your rudeness is making me laugh."

The man shuts his eyes tight, massaging his temple and then giving Soobin a resigned look, "Okay, what the fuck do you want?"

Soobin doesn't have to answer, his stomach did it for him.

-

"You look like you've been starved to death, calm down, dude," The man tells him, sat in front of Soobin in a buffet something restaurant, Soobin couldn't entirely give a fuck to know the name of.

When they made the deal, the man immediately brought Puma back to his friend, someone who goes by the name Taechyun? Taehyung? Ah no, he thinks it's Taehyun, turned out, this man wasn't really the owner, he was just the owner's friend, pet sitting Puma for a while. He brought Soobin here right after, not really eating, just watching eat Soobin amusedly.

"Why the fuck are you staring?"

"You're such a messy eater," He voices out his observation, "And I told you to slow down, I'm not rushing you."

Soobin makes a face, gulping a mouthful of rice first before pointing his fork to his direction, "Even if you're rushing me, I won't give a fuck. I'm hungry, that's why."

"You have a nasty mouth," The man whispered with brows raised but Soobin heard him anyway.

He acknowledges that.

"Are you poor? It doesn't seem like that," He talks again when it has become more apparent that Soobin have no plans of responding.

Soobin was only trying to keep quiet, he can't keep shit for the life of him.

Again, Soobin did not respond, just licks the spoon and directs his gaze away from the stranger.

"Is this your first time eating in a restaurant like this?"

Soobin creases his forehead, looking back at him. He sees the utter speck of curiosity in his eyes. This stranger is a fucking nosy man.

"No, it's just, it's been a long time."

The man leans closer, resting his face on his hand, elbow on the table and tilts his head, "How long?"

"Four days," he shrugs.

The last proper meal he had taken was four days ago, literally before he pulled this shit of an act of running away. He's been only surviving from cans of processed food for the last three days, he didn't know himself how he fucking survived that.

The man frowns at that, becoming more confused, "Four days?"

Soobin nods.

"Four days?" He asked again, sounding more ridiculed.

Soobin raised a brow but nodded again.

"Dude, you're serious, four days?"

The man slightly jumps on his seat when Soobin slams his hands on the table, glaring at him, "Are you that fucking stupid that you have to repeat everything before you get things inside your thick head?"

The man immediately throws his hands up, surrendering, "Holy fuck, calm down. You're so short tempered," the man hissed.

Soobin relaxes and shrugs. He puts his utensils down, grabbing a glass and sipping as much water as he could. He gets the napkin and wipes his mouth, all the while the man's eyes are trained on him. He stood up right after, already walking away.

Before he could get away, this man pulled him back by the wrist, Soobin glaring at him again when he turned around.

"You're already going? Without saying thank you?"

Soobin have no plans of saying good bye, not even a speck of gratitude. He earned this. This was his reward, why the fuck should he say thank you. See. Simple principles, simple beliefs. Self indulgent too.

"Why would I?" Soobin asks genuine confusion in his voice.

The stranger's lips open and close, seemingly lost. He looks like he wants to say something.

"Get your hand off me," Soobin says, instead of waiting for him to find his tongue again. When he did, Soobin turns around to walk away.

When he got out of the restaurant, a voice yells after him, "Hey! You!"

Soobin stops walking, pursing his lips. He turns again, a curse ready at the tip of tongue. When he turned though, he was surprised to see that the man got so close already, Soobin has to back away, "What the fuck?"

He bites his lips, looking hard at Soobin's eyes, "Tell me your name," he demands.

"What about, no," Soobin challenges, grinning when the man frowns deeply.

"What's so fucking hard in giving me your name?" The man rolled his eyes.

"I don't give my name to just anyone, stranger," Soobin says, crossing his arms.

Soobin feels stupid. They are arguing in the middle of Santa Monica, people's noise loud around them, golden sand beneath their toes, bright sky void of clouds above their heads. The sun was breaking into afternoon, gust of summer wind blowing away the stranger's ridiculous blue hair, his sharp eyes never waver, looking at Soobin.

When he didn't respond, Soobin rolls his eyes again, he doesn't know how many times he already rolled his eyes at this man, Soobin's getting dizzy, "I have to go."

"Sure," the stranger purses his lips, an unreadable expression tainting his eyes.

He throws his hands up, about to walk away, for the first time in his life, it wasn't hands that pulled him back from walking out.

"But why."

Words.

Soobin isn't obligated to answer him but he faces the man again anyway, "Why do you have to know my name then?" He challenges.

"Because you're rude," the stranger shrugs, putting his hands inside the pockets of his shorts, flashing a grin at Soobin.

"That's it?" Soobin squints his eyes.

"I'm going to give you my name too," the man trades, biting his lips, probably to stop himself from grinning widely, and turning his gaze away from Soobin, directing it to the sand.

"I didn't ask for that."

Soobin have no idea why he's even continuing this nonsense talk with this stranger. They're going nowhere because Soobin was dead on decided not to give his name, but he wants to listen to him. He's indulging him because his curiosity was palpable and Soobin thinks it's attractive on him. He's attractive.

"You're not curious?" He complains, scratching his cheek.

Soobin laughs at that, starting to walk away backwards, "I've been calling you 'the man' in my head ever since and you did not hear me complaining."

The stranger starts walking too, towards him, without a thought, as if it was his instinct pushing him to stay close.

_To stay close._

"It's just a name, why can't you tell me," he whines, lips pouting. Soobin smiles softly, sucking his lower lip in, thinking.

He stopped walking, the stranger did too. They are centimeters apart, people are still bustling around him but Soobin hears none of them. Somewhere faraway, he hears a wave crash.

"If we meet again," Soobin starts, locking his eyes with the stranger, "I'll give it to you."

The man clenches his jaw, probably not satisfied with the deal but also wanting to let it go.

There's a hundred percent or zero possibility that they'll meet again, there's no in between. They're both aware, but the stranger nodded anyway.

In the end.

"You can't escape me next time," he says, tilting his head.

"I doubt that," Soobin winks and walks away.

That day, his shirt clung to him, Matthew's voice inside his head, a song playing in a loop.

Somewhere along the way, he finds himself humming.

_Why can't we be friends when we are lovers?_

_'Cause it always ends with us, hating each other_

_Instead of calling me out, you should be pulling me in_

_I've just got one more thing to say_

*

They met properly for the first time in a cafe Soobin works at. It's early Sunday evening, 8th of April, an hour when the world runs on uncertain lamplights, drunken howls and the occasional punch of laughter. There are just the two of them at this hour and an obtrusive kind of silence, Soobin has no idea how to break it.

Soobin tries to fight off the cocktail of metallic smoke and the thick scent of coffee beans caught in his hair. He was still in his uniform, the last drop of _coffea arabica_ nestle over his tongue and bittersweet smell lingers in the evening air, but none of it is enough to fill the abyss that stands between him and the stranger. It's been a month since they last saw each other and to be honest, since that day, Soobin didn't dare hope to meet him again. He thought witnessing this stranger was a onetime thing. He's still attractive, Soobin deems even though they are both hunched in an alleyway, flickering lamplight as their only source of light.

He frowns thinking about that hundred and zero probability that made them meet again.

What's with universe making him meet unnecessary people.

The stranger, with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, turns first. Eyeing Soobin with a piercing gaze, the flickering light enshrouding him in pale skin and a heavy veil of lethargy. Soobin wonders, with exhaustion pounding into his veins, if the man's lips are as soft as it seems.

"Tell me your name now."

Soobin turns to face him, crossing his arms, "You still remember that?"

"I was curious, I can't just forget about it," the stranger shrugs, his lips tugging to form a small smile.

He's really attractive.

"You've got one hell of a curiosity," Soobin snickers.

The man takes a deep inhale on his cigarette. Soobin scrunches his face, the man notices and laughs, blowing the smoke on his face.

Soobin wanted to punch him. Gods, give him patience. Actually, he did. He punched him on the arm. The stranger groans, Soobin thinks its only purpose was to indulge him.

"I don't have all the time in the world, tell me now," the stranger thins his lips in a line, his sharp eyes locked with Soobin's.

Soobin rolls his eyes.

"Sebastian."

The stranger raised a brow and crossed his arm, mustering Soobin in front of him, "Cool. Interesting. Really."

Soobin mimicked him, smirking, "Yeah?"

"It's not yours."

"What is?"

"Sebastian," the stranger broke the eye contact. He flicks off the end of his cigarette and they watch ashes twirl down, mixing in the evening air.

Soobin doesn't realize until now, the stranger inhales summer, exhales toxins.

Soobin taps his feet on the ground, biting his lips hard. He stops when he notices the man staring holes at his face. He stares back.

When the man was about to put the cigarette in between his lips again, Soobin grabbed and threw it on the ground, crushing it under his shoes.

"If you want to know so bad," Soobin furrows his brows and straightens his hunched back, "Then stop smoking."

"Who do you think you are?" The stranger asks, a lazy smirk plastered on the edge of his lips.

"Just a stranger," Soobin answers.

He turns and gets inside the cafe.

When he looks back, the stranger has gone.

*

They meet again for the first time in the library. The sun is breaking into a Thursday. A gust of summer blows away the last rays of moonlight. Soobin grabs a hold of a book that caught his attention the most.

_The unquiet death._

But another hand was holding it too, so Soobin immediately lets go. When he turns to look, Soobin sees a man with blue coloured hair, sharp eyes, sad smile.

Their gazes collide, and maybe their hands graze, and that's enough for Soobin to freeze.

But the stranger doesn't spare a second to acknowledge Soobin's questioning stare. He simply grabbed another book.

He starts to walk away and Soobin thinks he wasn't supposed to see how he clenched and unclenched his hand.

Soobin shrugs, pulls the book and sat in the corner.

He skims through the pages and stops when a line catches his eyes.

Soobin traces the words with his fingers, lips moving to pronounce each word yet no sound came out.

_'Grief eats away at you until nothing's left.'_

Does it? Soobin wonders.

*

They meet for the last of first times one Monday evening.

Soobin has always wanted to see Malibu, so tonight he went there. He walked slowly along the shore, feeling the wind, listening to the waves, enjoying the night.

It's been months since he ran away, he's actually surprised he wasn't caught yet. That or, they never really try to catch him. Soobin understands this too, his father doesn't like chase, and it would probably benefit him more to have his disappointment of a son leave by himself.

Malibu at one o'clock smells of salt and perspiration and drenched windbreakers. Soobin at 25 discovers that Malibu doesn't sleep. There are lights everywhere, it makes everything else look bright.

It's sad though, he can't see the stars.

Soobin pouts and sits on the shore, letting his feet get wet when the waves try to visit and get pull back.

He digs his feet deep in the sand. Sadness tastes bad, he doesn't like it so he tells himself to just fucking get over it, bury his emotions and stand again once he pull his feet back.

Just for a little while, he lets himself mull over it.

"We meet again," a voice beside him says.

Soobin jumps lightly, smacking the stranger, the same stranger from the past 2 months, on the arms when he saw him, "You like startling the fuck out of me," he complains.

Soobin wanted to ask how he found him in his workplace. If it was an accidental meeting again, just like the first time in the plane and the second time in Santa Monica. He wanted to ask this stranger about what happened in the library, whether he was aware Soobin was there too or not.

But the stranger just laughs, sitting beside him, holding a bottle of beer. He is wearing a tank top, shorts and a silver necklace around his neck. Soobin also notices the piercings on his ears. He briefly thinks they look like dotted stars.

Ah. He's still attractive.

This man is a stranger but something in him feels better than anyone.

"So, Sebastian, tell me now, who are you?" The stranger jokes lightly, though Soobin can tell he was being serious about it.

"What?"

"I stopped smoking," the man grins proudly, "Though, it has only been a short few weeks."

Soobin laughs at him, shaking his head.

"You know what, I have a proposal to make," the stranger says, taking a swig on the bottle he was holding, wincing after.

"You're not about to ask me to marry you, right?"

"No, fuck you," he chuckles, he stops for a while then shakes his head, "You know what, that's not a bad idea."

"What? You're willing to marry a stranger?"

Soobin rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle in his hand, he emptied it out before handing it back to him.

"Hey, you thought I was hitting on you in the plane," the stranger nudges him, "If I were, why not marry you? You don't seem so bad."

He smacks him, "Shut up."

"Tell me," Soobin says after a while, silence comfortably wrapping them in their own bubble.

"Tell you what?"

"The proposal, tell me about it," Soobin licks his lips and looks at him.

"It's simple," the man shyly laughs, hiding his grin by subtly biting his lips. Soobin notices, he does that a lot.

"Then better, I like simple things."

"I'm simple," the man laughs loudly when Soobin threw him a pointed look, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Soobin learns that the stranger's laugh sounds like, like, a crashing wave. It was deep and it carries happiness. When he laughs, it's not just his mouth, but his eyes, his body, his soul.

He's attractive.

"Let's just say our name at the same time," the man giddily says, turning his whole body to face Soobin.

He snorts, chuckling.

It's childish.

"Why do you even want my name so bad?"

He expects the same answer the stranger gave him back in Santa Monica. Something in between you're rude and I'm curious.

"Because you're cute," he says it simply.

Soobin froze and when the stranger noticed that he laughed, collapsing on the sand as his laughter kept his body shaking.

Soobin quickly rolls his eyes the moment he heard him laugh and smacks the stranger on the guts, "That's it?"

Soobin lets him laugh for a good few minutes more, not minding him. When he seems calmed enough, he sits up, his legs folded up so he can put his elbows there and rest his head on his hand, staring hard at Soobin again, "But I'm serious, I'm not lying."

"Of course," Soobin glares, though there's no bite in his voice.

The stranger did not respond and continued to look at him, really looked at him.

Soobin feels naked with clothes on.

"Do you get the name of everyone you find cute?" Soobin asks later on, genuinely wondering.

The man snickers, "It's only you."

"You expect me to believe that? You look like that type," Soobin states.

"What type?"

"The type who fucks around," he shrugs, "Who have girls wrap around his fingers five minutes after you walk in, the type to have people's eyes on and admire. The type to, I don't know, doesn't take things seriously."

"You're quick to judge," the stranger huffs, still not moving from his position, "I don't fuck around and I'm a serious person, thank you very much."

Soobin purses his lips and looks up to the sky, "Then why?"

Silence enveloped them for a while, Soobin turns to look at the man beside him to check if he heard him only to meet his unreadable stare, boring into his soul.

He feels naked.

"Because I want a name to match your face when I remember you."

Soobin looks at him, tilting his head, "And why would you remember me?"

The stranger cracks a smile, looking down for a moment, "Why not," he looks back up again, Soobin's breath got caught in his lungs, "You're memorable."

"Why?"

Soobin doesn't have any words, he just wants to ask why.

"Because you're fire," his voice is silent, he purses his lips like he doesn't want to say anything anymore but when he sees Soobin's stare, he continues.

"And I've been cold my whole life."

Soobin unlocks his gaze away from his, hugging himself closer, "What the fuck are you saying," he mumbles.

The stranger laughs again. Everything about this stranger is loud, his laugh, his personality, his presence. Soobin finds that he actually likes the noise.

"Just tell me your name, maybe then, we'll stop meeting in unexpected places."

Soobin chuckles at that, pulling his feet from the dampened sand.

"Okay, then, so you'll finally stop bothering me," Soobin shrugs.

The genuine surprise plastered on the stranger's face made Soobin laugh, throwing a handful of sand to him, "Shut your fucking mouth, stranger."

The stranger gives him a betrayed look and throws sand on his way too, standing up and definitely bouncing when Soobin stands in front of him.

They are standing centimeters apart. Soobin vaguely remembers Santa Monica. This time, the moon above their heads, sand underneath their toes, names spilling past their lips.

The stranger offers his hand first, cheeks scrunching up to form a smile, "I'm Choi Yeonjun."

Malibu at two o'clock is alive.

He's attractive. Choi Yeonjun is attractive.

Soobin hesitates, doubts frosting delicate and translucent despite the serene atmosphere, breaking dawn one smile at a time.

When he shakes Yeonjun's hand, the colors appear to be brighter.

"Soobin," he breathes, "Choi Soobin."

*

There are days harder than others. There are nights darker than the rest. Sometimes, Soobin chooses to shut his eyes and cry, while there are times when he just chooses to look and to listen and to feel and be numbed.

There are days when Soobin gets naïve and childish. There are hours when he gets selfish and rebels. There are minutes when he chooses silence than voices. There are seconds, Soobin strips himself bare and naked with vulnerability. And it speaks volume than any sob.

Today, Soobin is lonely. No other adjectives. Simply just lonely.

His yellow walls are starting to hurt his eyes from staring too long at it.

He was laying, arms and legs stretched, his hands dangling at edge of his bed, a notebook not so far, laying almost hidden in the haphazard mess of his clothes, strips of moonlight from his blinded window giving light to his dark room.

It turns out that the notebook doesn't actually have any writing on it, just massive twines of ink balled into ripped pages, a sticky note, however, with edges fraying, corners dog-eared and yellowing sways lightly from the occasional breeze that caresses it.

The handwriting is determined, pressed down with so much force that the words are physically imprinted into the paper.

_Choi Yeonjun. Stranger. Loud eyes. Cigarettes. Fire._

Soobin doesn't have any idea why he wrote that while he was at work. It's been two weeks since Malibu. Choi Yeonjun never left his mind since then.

Soobin sighs, covering his face with an arm.

He wrote it because he figured, the ink will stay longer than Yeonjun's words in his memories.

He has his name but he stays as a stranger. There's no way they're going to meet again. Soobin's aware of that zero possibility.

It's a shame though. Yeonjun, albeit stranger, made Soobin feel a little less lonely.

-

Soobin gets distracted when a song stuck in his head and he can't listen to it.

Tonight's song is Robbers by The 1975. Soobin has that one verse that keeps ringing inside his head, it gets annoying.

He huffs while packing his things, ready to call it a day and sleep the night away inside his cheap as fuck room (for some reason he managed to stay there for four months, it's a true wonder).

Soobin greets his manager farewell and a good night before swinging the cafe's door. He got startled with the sight of a man with striking blue hair, sharp eyes, and Rolex watch, hunched in the car's hood, fingers playing with his car keys.

Soobin freezes.

Yeonjun smiles at him from where he is when he sees him, straightening his posture. He have that ugly, stupid looking grin on his face, Soobin was tempted to punch it off.

He stops from where he is and didn't approach Yeonjun. He smirks when Yeonjun furrows his brows and clicked his tongue.

Soobin waits for him.

He's been waiting for him.

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, annoyed but approached Soobin, nonetheless.

"You're so fucking prideful," he says in a lieu of greeting.

Soobin laughs, grinning when Yeonjun glares at him, "So, I've been told."

Yeonjun snickers at that, scanning Soobin's face for a while.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Soobin tilts his head, raising a brow.

"You still look ugly."

"I remember you saying the opposite of that when you're trying to get my name," Soobin tsked, shaking his head.

Yeonjun smirks at that, shrugging, "I don't remember saying anything."

Soobin snickers, "Liar," he mumbles.

Yeonjun, the fucker, pretends not to hear that. He only flashes an innocent smile in front of Soobin, pocketing his hands, "By the way, I have this plan."

"I don't care," Soobin says, already walking away.

He felt Yeonjun following him, so he fastened his pace. Yeonjun was clearly having none of that and pulls Soobin back by the wrist.

"No, listen," Yeonjun grips Soobin's shoulder when he's already facing him, Soobin immediately sees the eagerness reflected in his eyes.

Soobin always listens.

"Come with me."

Soobin shakes Yeonjun's hands off him and throws a ridiculous look on him, "The fuck you're saying? I don't know you."

"I'm Yeonjun," he rolls his eyes, "We're not strangers, I'm not a kidnapper although I'm going to literally kidnap you if you don't agree."

Soobin kicks him on the shin.

Yeonjun laughs, backing away, rubbing the kicked area, "Kidding! Just come with me, I'm going to drive around LA. I'm lonely and in need of a company, I was wondering if it could be you," he finishes off with a smile.

Soobin creases his forehead, "Why me?"

"You always ask why, I literally have no reason for every fucking thing I do. C'mon, man."

"And if you're really a bad person?" Soobin asks, his voice getting louder and eyes going wide.

Soobin doesn't even know how Yeonjun always manages to find him, or everything's just accidental. Like, they're just always coincidentally in the same place.

He did not expect meeting him again like this. He did not expect meeting Yeonjun again at all.

"Except I'm not," he whines, pouting.

Soobin almost cracked a smile.

"I can't be certain."

"I'll treat you food," Yeonjun says seriously instead, his face blank.

Soobin snorts at that.

Good point.

"You're bribing me with food?" Hint of incredulousness can be heard in his voice.

Yeonjun nods and bites his lips, "Is it working?"

Soobin laughs, crossing his arms, "I have work tomorrow morning."

"Resign."

Soobin's eyes widened, uncrossing his arms while scanning Yeonjun's face to see if he is being serious, "What the fuck, dude?"

"I'll pay you to come with me," Yeonjun says instead, nodding.

Soobin can't believe this guy.

"Don't you have other friends? You're going to pay me just to accompany you?" Soobin massages his temples, the ridiculousness of this situation giving him headache.

"I have!" Yeonjun follows him when Soobin starts walking away again.

"But they're not you."

Soobin stops. Yeonjun almost bumps to him. He heard him mutter a silent fuck.

Soobin turns to look at him again, his eyes squinting at Yeonjun, "What?"

"What?" Yeonjun asked back.

"Repeat what you just said."

"Fuck?" Yeonjun scratches the side of his neck, bowing his head a little.

He have this pretty shade of blush on his cheeks, Soobin briefly thinks it's pretty on him.

"No," Soobin points at him, "The other one."

Yeonjun awkwardly laughs at that, gulping before locking eyes with Soobin again, "They're not you?"

Soobin regards Yeonjun for a while, his gaze unwavering. He merely acknowledges that it's making Yeonjun squirm.

"I don't know," Soobin mumbles, tilting his head, "Your plan sounds ridiculous to me."

There's uncertainty in his voice when he tells Soobin, "Then come with me."

Soobin gives him a perplexed look.

"If you do, maybe you'd find something you hate and then you'd know."

_Now if you never shoot, you'll never know_

_And if you never eat, you'll never grow_

_You've got a pretty dirty kind of face_

_Begging you to stay, stay, stay, stay_

His gaze stays lock on Yeonjun longer.

"Okay," he whispers.

When Yeonjun smiles, Soobin feels a little breathless.

"Only because you're fucking pitiful," Soobin shrugs, "And money's good," he continues.

When Yeonjun laughs, Soobin feels his breath knocked out of him.

Sometimes the wrong choice takes you to the right place.

Soobin thinks it makes perfect sense.

*

When Yeonjun came to pick Soobin up, it was Wednesday afternoon. There's no reason for Soobin to feel nervous but he is.

With two luggages on his side, Yeonjun gives him an amused look. His windrows are rolled down, forearm resting there as his fingers toy with his lower lip.

Soobin's eyes follow the movement.

It looks like Yeonjun wants to ask something, Soobin has always been able to read him. There are times when he doesn't feel like a stranger, like he's an open book and Soobin can read each line, for as many times he like. Like he's someone real, someone Soobin can get a grasp on. There are times Yeonjun feels foreign, and it was those times when the man in front of Soobin looks broken, like his bones are cracking and his skin is being stretched thin but he doesn't let misery show but Soobin can still see. Soobin can still tell.

Yeonjun looks like he wants to ask many questions, Soobin was ready to dodge them. He can't answer him. He can't give a part of himself to a stranger.

But Yeonjun didn't ask. He only smiled and beckoned Soobin to get in. He doesn't question Soobin's things, or the lack thereof.

When Soobin settles on the passenger seat, he leans back and faces Yeonjun, watching him pull up and drive away.

Yeonjun turns to him and gives him a small smile before directing his focus on driving, "Why?"

Soobin crosses his arms and tilts his head, "Why what?"

"You look like you have something to say," he chuckles quietly, mindlessly gesturing on Soobin's face.

"I don't know if this is rude to ask but I'm going to ask anyway," Soobin starts, turning his body fully on Yeonjun, "How old are you?"

Yeonjun laughs, biting his lips hard when he laughed too loudly for his liking, shaking his head, "It wasn't rude and I'm 26 years old."

Soobin nods slowly.

He doesn't know why Yeonjun always seemed to pay attention to his words. Like right now, he assured him it wasn't rude. It's always the simple things but Soobin notices them. Attention is something he isn't used to have. Money and glory don't really equate to unadulterated attention.

The feeling's nice, he concludes.

"And I'm not sure if I'm being rude too but," Yeonjun throws him a look, "How about you?"

"You're right it's rude," Soobin only says, not answering.

Yeonjun shakes his head but didn't push it.

Soobin liked that about him.

-

The sky was in pretty shade of pink, the sun setting while two men waste the night away, drinking.

They are sitting on the hood of Yeonjun's wrangler, cans of beer on their hands. The older decided to stop driving for a while and insisted on spending the night on an empty lot they passed while on the road. Long grass untamed and the scent of dampened earth was strong but Soobin thinks there's something in this place that makes him feel more at ease than his cheap as fuck room. The sky gave a pretty view too but Soobin has no idea why he kept looking at the man beside him instead.

"Fun fact," Yeonjun starts, hugging his knees closer to himself, "I want to know you better."

Soobin sips on his can before wiping his lips with his hand. He didn't answer.

_I want you to know me too._

"Why?" Yeonjun asked instead. Soobin hears the underlying disappointment in his voice but he pretends he didn't.

"Why what?"

Soobin mimics Yeonjun's position, resting his chin on his knees.

"Why won't you let me?"

Soobin doesn't answer because he doesn't have an answer to that. He actually does, but he feels too tired to explain. He doesn't want to explain himself too.

"I'm just a stranger," Soobin whispers instead.

"I want you to stop being a stranger," Yeonjun purses his lips, locking his gaze firmly on the can in his hand, "Why won't you let me?" He asked again.

Soobin sighs. He doesn't have words to answer him.

"How much am I being paid for this?" He asked instead.

Yeonjun frowns for the lack of answer but he let it slide away, licking his lips before responding, "How much do you want?"

"Is 10,000 dollars an hour too much?" Soobin jokes.

"No," Yeonjun shrugs.

How much money is this man willing to waste on him? Soobin wonders.

Silence reigned between them for a while before Soobin straightens his back and faces Yeonjun, poking him on the cheek.

"You're upset," he states.

Yeonjun only threw a look before shrugging, "Doesn't matter."

Soobin nods, "You're right," he puts his can down, showing his two hands to the older.

When Yeonjun gives him a questioning look, Soobin wriggles his fingers and smiles innocently at him, "Do you know the 5 by 5 rule?"

Yeonjun shakes his head, giving him his full attention. Soobin counts that as a win.

"According to five by five rule, if it's not going to matter in five years," Soobin points at his first hand with his lips, "Don't spend more than five minutes being upset about it," he then points to his other hand.

When Yeonjun remains silent, Soobin lets him. He pretends not to notice him staring.

Don't waste time knowing me, Soobin thought.

_I don't plan to stay._

*

Elsewhere calls, Yeonjun answers. Soobin learns that.

The second day they hit the road, Soobin makes a mental list of things Yeonjun seemed to be fond of, his habits, the little noises he makes, the expressions he wears, his love for astronomy, his obsession with The 1975.

Soobin tries to find any reason to hate since the first second, but what he found were Yeonjun's innocence whenever he asks why, the lilt in his voice when he jokes, the way he furrows his brows when he's upset, how many times he bites his lips to stop a smile, how he tries so hard not to throw questions but he still does because he's curious.

Because up until now, he's still attractive.

Yeonjun looks at him for the first time that day, really looks at him, from under his lashes. Sunlight runs down his face, highlighting all the soft creases and flawed skin, and Soobin thinks that he's so remarkably frail like this, so remarkably beautiful.

"I used to dance," he mumbles.

Soobin blinks, looking back at him curiously, "I didn't ask," he gives him a grin, leaning back on the passenger's seat.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes, "You're so mean," he complains and proceeds to take a bite on his burger, pouting.

Soobin laughs at that, eyes crinkling. He turns his gaze to the window and watches how everything shines golden under the sun's glow, breaking into afternoon. He watches the worker inside the convenience store slap herself awake and shut her eyes again when slumber pulls her deeper. He watches the empty road in front of it, dried brown leaves giving colors to the suffocating grey asphalt. He watches clouds pass, moving from places to places. When he returns his eyes back to Yeonjun, he watches him sulk.

He smiles.

"Tell me more."

Yeonjun only glares at him, cheeks bulging when he finishes his burger with two bites.

"I'm asking now," Soobin says, "Stop glaring."

The older huffs, aggressively drinking on his bottled water, still glaring on the man looking amusedly beside him.

"I hate your nasty mouth," he simply states.

Soobin chuckles, "Okay."

Yeonjun only frowns more.

"Tell me next time then," Soobin shuts his eyes.

"When is that?"

He shrugs, turning away.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.

-

"Are you a resident here?" Yeonjun asked him one morning.

Soobin wasn't all that awake yet, his limbs numbed from sleeping in a car, mind hazy with drowsiness, "What?" he croaks.

"Here, in California, are you a resident?"

Awake Soobin wouldn't answer, but drowsiness is making his mind blank, his filter not functioning on such an early hour. He shakes his head.

"No?" He vaguely hears the confusion in Yeonjun's voice, his mind supplying him an image of his furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you a tourist, then?"

Soobin doesn't answer, only groans.

"Is this your first time? Here in California?"

Soobin turned away from him, facing the window instead, "Stop fucking bothering me and sleep Yeonjun."

He hears him mutter a silent okay before sleep embraces him again.

-

It was their fifth day on the road when Yeonjun asked him again.

This time, Soobin freezes before he answered him yes, deeming it safe for Yeonjun to know that enough.

Yeonjun seemed happy to hear his answer, loudly cheering, "Holy fuck, I'm going to take you to places, just you wait."

Soobin laughs at him.

He'd love that.

-

Yeonjun takes him to the Long Beach first, about 20 miles downtown LA.

When Soobin asked him why, Yeonjun shrugs and grins, "I don't know, you seem to love the beach."

"And how'd you know that?"

Yeonjun takes his seatbelt off, biting his lips while looking down, "Santa Monica and Malibu," he says simply.

He got off the car with a pretty blush tainting his cheeks.

Soobin doesn't try to stop the smile that grows on his face.

He runs, catching up on the older. He slightly nudges him with his shoulders before running ahead of him, laughing loudly for no particular reason.

He was grinning widely when he turns to look at Yeonjun, he sees how he stopped walking and stared at him instead.

They are standing centimeters apart yet Soobin can see how Yeonjun's eyes reflect the gold of the sun. He looks deeply sun kissed standing there, every inch of him glowing gold. His skin, his eyes, his soul.

Soobin bites his lips, "What?" He shouts.

Yeonjun pockets his hands, tilting his head, "You should smile more."

Soobin raised a brow, shaking his head, "No."

"Why?"

Soobin purses his lips, looking down, "Well," he looks back up again and sees how Yeonjun's eyes lit up, the way they sparkle whenever Soobin gives him answers.

"I'm afraid many would swoon over me if I smile as often as you do," he smirks.

Yeonjun watches him amusedly, the side of his lips slowly going upwards.

"You're not wrong."

Soobin might've heard him wrong after all.

*

Long Beach is beautiful, Soobin concludes. They haven't explored the whole city yet but it gives Soobin a big-city feel with small-town charm in a unique oceanfront setting. He likes the balance, the inner urbanite and the sandy beaches.

Yeonjun doesn't stop talking the whole time they walked to Queen Mary. He tells Soobin the docked ocean liner, he vaguely remembers him mentioning an aquarium too. It made Soobin genuinely excited, he smiled widely while listening to him.

It was the simplest things but Soobin likes them so much. The thought of Yeonjun bringing him to places he's never been lights a spark inside him.

Soobin is rich, privileged as fuck, but he has been caged for too long. He never experienced going to amusement parks, he have yet strolled Korea's streets before, never even had time to do things he like because he was always forced to sit and read books. He was gifted with riches but never of freedom.

When they got to Queen Mary, Soobin figures that this is what Yeonjun was talking about. Queen Mary, in Soobin's amazement was a cruised ship docked on the Long Beach harbor, converted into a hotel and tourist attraction. The sun had set so the pretty view of the night sky was breathtaking. Yeonjun laughs when he heard Soobin gasped beside him.

Yeonjun accommodated a suite, Soobin furrows his brows, knowing how expensive it was. He can't volunteer to pay though, he barely have money left. When Yeonjun saw Soobin's face, he chuckles quietly before smoothening his brows with his fingers, he mouths him 'it's okay' and Soobin just lets him.

"Just how rich are you?" He asked him, settling in their suite.

The older stops, pursing his lips before throwing a look to his direction, "Secret," he shrugs.

Soobin rolls his eyes. He pointed at the bed, "You sleep on it."

Yeonjun shakes his head immediately, "What, no. We can share a bed, I don't mind."

"But I do."

Yeonjun makes a face at him, dodging the pillow Soobin threw at his direction, "Suck it up then, we're going to share the bed."

Soobin sighs dejectedly, mumbling a silent _fuck you._ Apparently Yeonjun heard that because he smirked at him, "That'll work too."

He tries to wink but only ended up blinking with both his eyes. Soobin bursts laughing.

"You look fucking stupid," he says in between laughter.

When he turns to look at Yeonjun, he was only smiling at Soobin, "What?" He huffs.

Yeonjun shakes his head, turning around.

"Happiness looks good on you."

-

After they ate dinner in a sophisticated restaurant, Soobin vaguely recalls its name as Sir Winston's Restaurant and Lounge, whatever the fuck that was. Yeonjun brings him to a bar.

"This is the observation bar," Yeonjun says, grinning excitedly at him. He nudges Soobin to walk ahead by gently tapping the small of his back.

Soobin looks around while taking a seat on the counter, Yeonjun beside him watching his face. It's a cocktail lounge with live music, there aren't lots of people and the overall vibe is relaxing. There are several champagnes decorating the entire place, shades of red dominating the color theme that gives a strong sophistication feels.

"You belong here," Yeonjun starts the conversation, eyes only trained on Soobin, his body fully facing him while he downs his glass.

Soobin gives him a small smile, slightly shaking the glass in front of him, cocktail strong on appearance. He tries to play it cool but he thinks it shows. Soobin wants to say he doesn't belong here, he doesn't belong anywhere.

"I don't know," he says instead, shrugging.

"Tell me something," the older downs another glass before resting his head on his clenched hand, elbow on the table.

"Like what?" Soobin crosses his arms, leaning to the table and turning his attention fully on Yeonjun.

"Your favorite color, I don't know, your favorite music, your favorite flower, your likes, your dislikes, just tell me," Yeonjun bites his lips, like he's afraid he asked more than he's allowed to, "Just tell me things."

Soobin pursed his lips to a thin line, scanning the older's face, "Why should I?"

"Can you stop asking why," he scrunches his nose, taking a drink again when a bartender gave him another glass.

Somewhere in the room, music starts playing, lights reflecting beautifully whenever they hit the chandeliers.

Soobin smirks, "You're pretty nosy as fuck."

"I'm pretty?" Yeonjun raises a brow, smirking slightly.

"Nosy," Soobin continues, "That's what I said."

"You just said I'm pretty," he singsongs, "Soobin, you think I'm pretty?"

"I literally just said you're deadass nosy but all you heard was that fucking one word," Soobin shakes his head, "You're stupid."

Yeonjun, already used with Soobin's insults, only chortles. He grins at him, "My ears only hear good things."

"That's shit too."

Yeonjun laughs again.

Soobin gives him a questioning look when he stood up, briefly giving a tip to the bartender before pulling Soobin by the wrist out of the bar.

"Where the fuck now?"

Yeonjun doesn't answer him, only holds his wrist tighter. Soobin has no time to wonder and observe their surroundings before he's getting shoved in an elevator, beautifully decorated with twines of metals crafted to look like tens of snake intertwined. When it opened, Soobin was welcomed with a cold breeze and the sight of the night sky decorated prettily with stars. He turns to look at Yeonjun who only smirks at him.

Yeonjun brought him to the ship's deck where several tables are spread out. There are lesser people here, the wind strong but merciful enough.

Soobin clicks his tongue, running towards the railings with Yeonjun following calmly behind.

"You like it?" Yeonjun asked when he stood beside Soobin, watching him closely.

Soobin hums, smile slowly spreading on his face.

Silence reigns over them, enough to create an abyss between them but both of them are comfortable enough for the lack of conversation. They don't really need words. Yeonjun's presence speaks enough. For Soobin.

"I don't have a favorite color," Soobin says after a while, eyes still trained on the sky, "It makes me feel guilty, having one would be unfair to other colors."

Yeonjun turns to him immediately, not really expecting Soobin to answer his questions earlier. He smiles nonetheless.

"Though there's a color I like more than the others," Soobin continues when he hears the older hummed. He pretends not to notice Yeonjun's stares.

"What is it?"

"Yellow."

Yeonjun nods, freezing for a while, later on nodding and licking his lips, "Why yellow?"

Soobin shrugs indifferently, "If happiness have a color, I think, it would be it."

"I assume you don't have favorite music too?" Yeonjun asks, grinning.

Soobin side-eyes him, "You already know my preferences in music."

"I guess," he bows his head, chuckling.

"How about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me something," Soobin faces him, his eyes scanning Yeonjun's face, lingering on his lips.

"Like what," he returns Soobin's gaze.

"Tell me something," Soobin says again, blinking slowly, "Something you haven't told anyone before."

Yeonjun's eyes remain locked on his, before he shifted them away, biting his lower lip.

"My life," Yeonjun's voice was quiet, "Is all about hands."

Soobin tilts his head, confusion in his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lots of things," Yeonjun shrugs, grinning again, "Doesn't matter."

Soobin doesn't push it.

The night was quiet, hushed conversations around them being drowned by the sound of waves. The sky was starlit yet Soobin's eyes are on Yeonjun.

Soobin thinks, it's just. Natural. His eyes always get drawn at Yeonjun's because they hold the universe.

His eyes are the universe.

"Tell me something," Yeonjun speaks after a while.

"Like what."

"Tell me something you miss."

Soobin can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way they dim whenever they're not sure if Soobin will give him answers. He hates seeing that. Doubt doesn't look good on him.

"There's a lot," Soobin whispers, directing his gaze to the night sky again.

The stars seem dull, it's a pity.

"Like what," Yeonjun asks again.

"Like," he ponders for a moment, "Like family, friends, someone.." He trails off.

Yeonjun studies his face, traveling his gaze from Soobin's face to the way he carries himself.

"I miss them, maybe because I have none to begin with."

Soobin doesn't cry. He stopped crying at 8, he hasn't, up until now.

So why does he feel like crying right now. Why does he feel choked up. Why are his hands trembling. Why does it feel like the world's ending in a peaceful Saturday evening.

"What do you miss the most?" Yeonjun bites his lip again, looking down at Soobin's hands. He wants to hold them, but he's not sure of what will Soobin's reaction be.

Yeonjun leans on the railings, clenching his hands.

"I'm not sure," Soobin shrugs.

Yeonjun doesn't ask why, he wants Soobin to tell it himself. For once, he doesn't want to ask.

Soobin turns to him then, mimicking his position and intertwining his hands together, "What are you running away from?"

Yeonjun freezes, clenching his jaw. He thinks of what to answer, of how to answer.

"The truth," He answers simply.

"You can't run away from it," Soobin supplies.

Yeonjun laughs at that, looking at Soobin with an unreadable look in his eyes, "I know."

"Why did you go?" Soobin asks, his lids falling.

He shuts his eyes as he waits for Yeonjun's answer. He knows he's asking stupid questions, he's asking without knowing the whole context. But he wants to ask and to ask and to ask. He likes hearing Yeonjun's voice, he likes the look in his eyes when he answers, he likes the way he looks at Soobin. Like, like, he wants to know every inch of Soobin's skin, every crack in his voice, every story behind each detail.

Soobin wants to know every inch of Yeonjun too. He wants to trace goosebumps on his skin, wants to feel his heartbeat under his skin, he wants, and wants, and wants. He's running out of time.

(They're running out of time.)

Yeonjun's answer came with a slight breeze, he's not sure whether he's imagining Yeonjun's hand brushing his for a second. But Soobin likes it. He likes it.

"No reason to stay is a good reason to go," he answers quietly.

Is that it?

They stay there for a few minutes more before the older tells him to go to sleep.

"What about you?" Soobin asks, watching Yeonjun, his hunched back, clenched hands and lidded eyes.

"What about me?"

"You're not going to sleep yet?"

Yeonjun gnaws his lips before throwing a look at Soobin again, "Why? Can't sleep without me now?"

Soobin heeds his teasing no mind, mindlessly rolling his eyes at him. He straightens his back and glares at him, "You know what, and I don't care. Just forget I asked."

He turned to walk away and stopped when Yeonjun spoke again.

"How about you?"

Soobin chuckles, smirking slightly at him, "What about me?"

"What are you running away from?"

Soobin blanked for a second before he turned to look at him again, brows furrowing, "What?"

Yeonjun turns at him too and gives him a look, "You heard me."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

Yeonjun's lips parted, looking at Soobin amusedly. His eyes are twinkling, mischievous because he knows he got Soobin, edges of his lips slowly tugging upward. He looks absolutely smug, Soobin wants to punch his face.

As much as Soobin observes the other, he knows Yeonjun does too. He knows it from the way the older looks at him. The way his eyes linger just a second longer, the way he scans his face to read him, the way Soobin feels expose when he does all those things.

"Let me ask you then, Choi Soobin," Yeonjun brings a hand up to his lips, caressing them as he studies Soobin's face, his head tilted to the side, "Why did you go?"

Soobin follows the movement, mindlessly biting the inside of his cheek.

He clenches his jaw and avoids Yeonjun's eyes, "What's it to you?"

He hears him take a step closer, his voice quiet and calm but holds firmness like there's nothing in the world worth voicing out than the words spilling past his lips right now, "You can't heal if you keep pretending you're not hurting."

Soobin looks at him in muted shock. Was he transparent this whole time? It's the first time someone pointed that out in front of him, he was the first person to speak Soobin's pain into words. Not even himself acknowledges that sometimes.

Soobin thinks, he's just, there. Emotions come and go, like people. They change. He doesn't dwell, he only feels.

"Who do you think you are?" He bites his lips when he hears anger in his voice, taking a step back.

Anger tastes bitter in his mouth. He doesn't like it.

Yeonjun hunches his back, bowing his head slightly like he got shot. Soobin's words sting.

He looks back up again, looking at the man in front of him under his lashes, "Just a stranger."

Soobin vaguely got reminded of the night they had the same talk under the scrutinize of the moon at an alleyway. Stranger wasn't such a strong word yet.

"Then stop asking questions," He bites the inside of his cheeks, "Remain to me as a stranger and nothing more."

Soobin wants to crumble under the weight of Yeonjun's gaze, his eyes are unreadable and Soobin feels naked with clothes on.

Yeonjun always makes him feel like that. There's something in his stare that knocks him breathless.

"Why do you have your guards so high up?" Yeonjun's voice was grounding, deep but never lacks emotions. That's the thing about Yeonjun, he never speak things so half-heartedly. He says what's on his mind, he asks when he's curious. He uses his voice and it's something Soobin never had the power enough to do so.

Yeonjun is so attractive like that. He is everything Soobin isn't.

"You can't swim in my waters," Soobin says, he's not sure if it was him who spoke so he repeats, loud enough to mask his beating his heart and the crashing waves, "You can't just swim in my waters."

_If I give you the chance to swim, it's like letting you drown._

Yeonjun stood there bathed in moonlight, his eyes downcast but never left his. He's so greatly moon kissed, he looks like everything Soobin was afraid to see and longing to hold. The world continues to run and it can crash and burn and it would be the last thing in Soobin's mind because right now, at this moment, it was just him and the stranger.

They are running out of time.

Soobin flashes him a small, sad smile, his head tilted, "You know, the worst thing about being left alone by everyone was that they saw me for who I really am,"

He's not crying but there are tears constricting his throat painfully, "And didn't find me worth it."

Soobin takes a step back when Yeonjun tries to get closer. The stars seem duller when Yeonjun's eyes dimmed.

"I let them see the vulnerabilities and they left," he gulps, chuckling quietly, "People are funny."

Yeonjun's eyes are heavy on him, his lips pursed. He looks like he wants to say something but Soobin doesn't think he can listen right now. He can only talk and take because he's selfish like that. He has always been selfish.

"That's the same with you too, Choi Yeonjun," Soobin likes the sound of his name from his mouth, savoring the bitter taste it left, "So don't waste time knowing me, neither of us is going to stay."

Yeonjun doesn't say anything. He doesn't stop Soobin when he turned around, doesn't stop him when he left.

Soobin slept alone that night. More alone than he had ever felt.

*

They didn't talk about it again the next morning when they get back to the road, or the next day after.

Since that night, there was like a ticking bomb between them, waiting for one of them to crack before it explodes. Soobin hears the tic tac, the engine's howl, Yeonjun's voice but not his presence.

He was silent and Soobin hates it. He likes Yeonjun's noises better, his loud eyes, loud voice, loud presence. Soobin hates the fact that he was the one that shuts them up, shuts them out.

He looks at Yeonjun for the first time that day and notices the bags under his eyes, sees all the soft creases and sharp edges, the way he grips the wheel and how his shoulders tensed, how many times he bit his lips like he's stopping himself from saying something, how his chest heaves when he wheezes, how his eyes are downcast but focused, how the edges of his lips were tugged in a thin line, how his adams move when he gulps. Soobin tries to read him only to fail because there are no words. There are only massive inks twined into balled pages.

Soobin could never read him right.

"Stop it," Yeonjun calls him out, pulling up at the side of an empty road, the sun setting giving an orange glow to his pretty face. It was silent, save for the occasional roar of cars passing them by but Soobin still thinks it's deadly silent.

"I told you not to be upset," Soobin says, staring away somewhere in the distance.

"You can't tell me how to feel," Yeonjun frowns, his eyes lingering on the younger's lips.

Soobin mindlessly licks them, nervously looking back at the older again. His heart is hammering inside his chest, thousands of butterflies flapping their wings, easing their way out of his throat. They danced to the beat of his heart and Soobin oddly thought it was calming. Like, like, they've been there since day one and the realization doesn't hit him hard, instead nudges him gently and whispers. Whispers.

Soobin wasn't able to hear it earlier because he was too focused in Yeonjun's noises he couldn't hear anything else even his own.

"I know," he says quietly.

Yeonjun looks away before biting the inside of his cheek, looking back at him again with his brown orbs clear and warm and curious, "What's hurting you?"

Soobin blinks, feeling brainless for a second, his heart soars, throat burning with unshed tears.

"Stop asking," his voice shakes.

"Tell me," Yeonjun's voice was quiet but firm, grounding him, giving Soobin a choice yet nudging him gently, breaking the walls he built around himself one word at a time.

The first time Yeonjun touches him, really touches him, Soobin felt burned. He watches Soobin's face intently, sliding his palm into Soobin's hand, his fingers caressing his skin, burning, burning him.

Yeonjun feels like fire against his skin, not enough to fry but warm enough to make him crave. Soobin, like a moth, is helplessly drawn to the fire.

"Tell me," Yeonjun repeats, flashing a smile to his direction, lightly squeezing his hand.

"Why?"

"Because I am a stranger."

Soobin looks and looks and looks, breathless as he takes in Yeonjun's gaze, his words, his sincerity.

Yeonjun is so attractive, it makes something in Soobin ache.

Sincerity is scary but Yeonjun makes him feel a little braver.

Soobin looks down on their hands and heaves a big inhale. There are words clogged in his throat, curtain of tears in his eyes that never dared to fall, he wants to say many things, but they are stuck. Pain crashes on him like a riptide, at that moment, Soobin forgets how to swim.

He doesn't know since when Yeonjun's arms wrapped around him, his face on the crook of his neck. He doesn't know since when he started crying. Pain seeping in one molecule at a time.

Soobin is okay, he's been doing fine playing pretend. He's been hiding the whole time that one question cracked him open. He was okay before all of this. He's living fine before he got asked with all of Yeonjun's questions. It's like a dam being opened. Like the gates are finally unlocked that the overwhelming urge to cry hit him so strong, he scampers backwards and breaks.

He doesn't want to cry and he doesn't know why he's crying.

_What's hurting you?_

"It's me," he says quietly, sob lightly shaking his body, "My thoughts, myself, my fault."

Yeonjun doesn't ask him, only lets him speak, only lets him cry. His hands are gentle, rubbing his back.

Soobin's voice shakes but even then, he lets himself speak, "I want to keep going. I really do. But where do I go?"

Yeonjun's answer was simple, his tone light as he whispers the words in his ears, "To me."

He holds Soobin's face between his hands, gently wiping his tears away, "Because we're strangers."

Who happen to be at the same place.

At the same time.

*

Something between them shifted after that, like it was the last push they both needed before ending the beginning and starting the ending.

Soobin sees things in a new light, like he's been blinded and only now can he see the lingering looks, the gentlest touches, the small smiles, the words in Yeonjun's eyes. He realizes that he wasn't reading Yeonjun wrong, it's only now that he learns to read. To really read him.

Turns out, Yeonjun wasn't just massive inks twined, wasn't just lines and points and vogue marks. He was the word, the question, the answer. Soobin thinks he is so much more.

The more days he spends with Yeonjun, the more he opens just a little more room in his heart.

Some days, Soobin thinks he's happy; the dog by the street was smiling. Some days, he thinks he's weak, the pavements have cracks. Some days, he thinks he's a coward, the stars in the sky are hiding, it was dark. Some days, he thinks he's lost and the sky will not stop crying. But there are days, Soobin thinks he's in love, the leaves are falling under the autumn air.

Some nights, he looks at Yeonjun and sees the shell of a man hiding behind bright smiles, tough demeanor and cigarettes.

Tonight, Yeonjun feels closer.

From the distance, Soobin raises the film camera he was holding and takes a shot of that stranger. When he puts it down, Yeonjun was already looking at him, head tilted and lips tugged to form a lazy smile.

Soobin looks down at the snapshot in between his thin, long fingers, a snapshot of a hunched figure, leaning on the car, with one knee bent and the other propping his entire weight. The moon's light illuminating half of his serene face, glassy pair of eyes focused on the sky.

He raises it until it's on eye level, squinting, looking back and forth from the snap to the actual sight of that stranger.

Soobin was grinning playfully.

When Yeonjun's frown deepened, he laughs and pockets the photo. He walks towards him and mimics his position. He focuses his gaze on Yeonjun, especially eyeing the cigarette between his lips, "Why are you smoking?"

Yeonjun purses his lips, thinking. He puts the cigarette away first, before answering him, "I need distraction."

"From what?"

"You," he says indifferently, flicking off his cigarette before taking a deep drag again.

Soobin tips his head sideways, confused, "Why me?"

Yeonjun gives him a look, smirk etched on his attractive face, "You're annoying."

Soobin eyes him intently, biting his lips as he continues to watch Yeonjun smoke beside him, "I dislike smokers."

"Including me?" Yeonjun was smirking, smug even though he probably already knows Soobin's answer. He looks so nonchalant and relaxed, smoke from the cigarette making him a little monochromatic.

"Especially you."

This time, Soobin was ready to answer him when Yeonjun asked, "Why?"

"It's like," He pauses to think, "With every stick you finish, I watched you waste seven minutes of your life," Soobin looks away, "That you could've spend with me."

Yeonjun doesn't respond, only throws the stick silently and crushes it with his foot. He slots his hand with Soobin's, so casual like it has long been a thing between them, like he's been doing it since the start, like there's nothing he wants to do more than just that.

"When I was young, I did some ballet," Yeonjun says, getting a little closer, their feet fit together perfectly, toes scarcely bumping, and all the lines aligned, "I used to."

Soobin asks for Yeonjun to explain what ballet is like, because he's never seen it before and Yeonjun decides to do live demonstration with his fingers.

"So here's the head and these are the legs and, ready, set, go," an arabesque, he calls it, "And when they jump like this," it's called grand jeté and, "Give me your palm," a twirl of the wrist, spinning nails dig laughter out of Soobin's palm, "Fouetté en tourant," and his smile disappears into curious fixation as Yeonjun's fingers skitter to the edge of his palm and over at the back, "Here a sissone, one, and a two, and," they both stop breathing momentarily when his fingers cross Soobin's wrist and up his forearm, arm, shoulder, collarbone, neck, lower lip, stop.

Yeonjun pries a smile open on Soobin's mouth with a thumb, grinning back at him.

And when Yeonjun's hand slips around his waist to bring him in closer, Soobin just have one more thing to say.

"I won't remember any of the terms you said."

Yeonjun's laugh is bright and it shakes his body. Soobin thinks, yet again, that he's attractive.

*

They are checked in a hotel, somewhere in the suburb of Los Angeles. The moon hangs heavily in the night sky, it was late evening and they were just turning up after strolling all day in Hollywood, sightseeing until they can feel their legs no more.

Soobin feels full. His stomach, his heart, his soul.

He was staring at Yeonjun's back as he gets dressed. This isn't the first time he's undressed in front of Soobin but this is the first time Soobin feels like he doesn't want to look away.

After Yeonjun got dressed in a simple white shirt and pajamas, his ridiculous blue hair fading and ears free of any piercings, he lays and meets Soobin's stare, "Why?"

Soobin smiles, taking the space beside Yeonjun on the bed, brushing his fingers gently on the corner of Yeonjun's lips. "I want to see you dance."

Yeonjun leans on the touch, traces all the lines and angles and pasts and futures of Choi Soobin into Yeonjun's skin with lips and lashes. Sleep is like wax, polyester, styrofoam, wool, graphite and it starts to wrap his tired body before he can reach back and try to grasp the end of Soobin's fingers.

"Why?" Yeonjun asks again, at the periphery of dream and reality.

Soobin's hands ghost along his collarbones, "When you talk about it, it's like you light up a little," he replies silently.

"I want to see you light up completely. Glowing. Overflowing with it. Like fireflies?"

*

"What are you," Soobin yelps as Yeonjun practically throws him over the window pane of a filthy-rich looking convertible, a treacherous little thing parked up against the curb, all black exteriors and plush white interiors, a car, one Sunday morning, "Doing?"

"To see fireflies," Yeonjun grins, muffling coughs in his sleeves, and it's only when Soobin looks up and looks over does he realize that the man is grinning from ear to ear, "Real ones."

"What," he deadpans, "Right now? Really? Are you fucking serious."

Yeonjun pulls Soobin in again just before he managed to get out. Yeonjun doesn't say much, only starts the engine eagerly and hums pop tunes to fill up the air, and maybe to obscure his obscenely pleased smile.

Soobin yelps again when he felt the car sped up from vacant roads to the silence of city and the suffocating grey asphalts. Yeonjun drives past the shadows of skyscrapers and the grassy suburbs, deeper into the city. Somewhere along the way, the car passed by familiar buildings and streets.

Soobin notices Yeonjun laughing at his dumbfounded look and cheering, voice drowned by the gust of wind.

Soobin looks at him oddly, later on laughing at the ridiculousness of this all, strangely finding the nerve to do the same. The wind rubs away the nerve in his skin and breathes in spark in their hair. It's a small thrill, but big enough of one to make his heart beat a tad faster. Soobin begins shouting, voice excited and distinct over the city noise, and he knows that Yeonjun is watching how the invisible currents get lost in the cold morning air.

Until they eventually stopped when the older pulled up at Venice Beach. The stretch of golden sand glowing under the merciful scrutinize of the waking sun.

Soobin starts rambling, eyes frantic and he halts his speech when he notices Yeonjun coughing and panting for air, grinning when Soobin's eyes fell on him.

Soobin stops.

Yeonjun leads him to the shore, tall palm trees dangling above their heads, blue dawn coloring the area. There aren't much people, only occasional joggers and street vendors preparing for another day. Yeonjun continues to pull him, passing them by until he stops at the center of Venice Beach Boardwalk. There are no people around them yet.

Yeonjun takes a step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four, five steps away from him. His lips stretches into the widest grin Soobin ever saw him wear. Yeonjun's smile makes its way between his fingertips that Soobin can't help but grasp, promising things about colored smoke, and light and magic that seem to have very little thing to do with actual firebugs.

Indeed it has virtually almost nothing to do with insect, and almost everything to do with a pair of transparent, glowing gloves and an uneven smirk on Yeonjun's lips as he orders him to pay attention. The music starts, everything dims, and Soobin loses his breath.

Yeonjun is a fleeting glimpse of hard muscles and fluid grace gliding through space, but more than that, there are literally lines of fucking light streaking out of his palms. Rivers of glowing violet and red and green light gushing out of his hands and floating like neon smoke and water. He moves his hands with a close, shimmering precision.

There's no actual music, just the hushed melody in their lungs; Soobin's infinite inhales, long diminuendos when he remembers to breath at all; Yeonjun's quick exhales, sharp crescendos when moist heels slide against sand and palms slice the ebbs and flows of liquid fluorescence into the night.

And then Yeonjun makes a gesture for Soobin to come closer, a simple tilt of a forefinger, really, but Soobin's heart is in his throat as he wobbles up and it nearly jumps out when Yeonjun suddenly runs his hand down the front of his shirt, a sweeping line from his neck to his chest with open palms when he got closer. Though the colors are ethereal and vanish into the air, Yeonjun's touch lingers behind, hot and unforgettable.

"Real fireflies," Yeonjun grins, "Light people up from the inside out."

"What are you even saying?" Soobin laughs, and even harder when he catches the older flushing from the neck up.

Yeonjun's answer began with a stammer but disappeared under a bout of fitful coughs and shaking, folded shoulders. There are beads of perspiration over his forehead.

Somehow, it doesn't look right.

-

They stayed there until the sun sets, the night starting.

Venice Beach at night is loud and busy and bright, it has its unique vibe. Eclectic shops and street performers of all kinds lined the walkway, the stretch of golden sand always thronged with people strolling. Foods stalls selling everything and restaurants bustled with people.

The night is just starting but Soobin already feels pleasantly buzzed, drunk from the sensation of autumn air and Yeonjun's hand in his. He was giggling too, leaning heavily on Yeonjun as the older continues to pull him from places to places, not really caring where they get to.

Somehow, they ended up in the shore, bottles of beer in their hands, though their pinkies stay linked, a little shy on the edges. There were a lot of people in that area too but Soobin couldn't pay attention to anyone else other than the man laughing boisterously in front of him, his laugh is so addictive and pleasing and contagious, Soobin finds himself laughing too.

"What do you think of my dance?" Yeonjun wiggles his brows at Soobin, passing him the bottle after taking a sip on it.

Soobin accepts it and hums, tipping his head back, staggering when he tipped it too far back. Yeonjun wraps his hands around his waist to catch him, laughing too, "You're very, very, very," he giggles when Yeonjun holds his breath, anticipating his answer.

"Terrible," he says in between giggles.

Yeonjun doesn't remove his hands around him even when Soobin's standing upright already, pulling him closer when Soobin plays with his ears, tugging lightly, "You're very terrible at it."

"Why are you so mean," Yeonjun whines, pouting. Soobin looks at his lips and bites his own.

Soobin wonders if Yeonjun's lips taste as intoxicating as the beer he's holding.

"It's not mean, it's honesty," Soobin teases.

Colored lights dance around them as the music somewhere the boardwalk gets louder. Soobin can hear people cheering and dancing the night away. When the light hits Yeonjun's face, he feels breathless.

"No, it's not," Yeonjun shakes his head, staring hard at Soobin's eyes.

Soobin's heart thrums with the beat of the music, loud and fast. He thinks, his heart is dancing also. And it's very terrible at it too. It's making Soobin feel things.

"Why are you even asking me, you know the answer already," Soobin shuts his eyes, colors behind his lids dancing too. One second it was white, then red, then yellow. It makes tipsy Soobin drunk, buzzed, confused and more and more. It makes his head spin, he leans his forehead on Yeonjun's shoulder.

Soobin giggles when he got reminded of his height difference with Yeonjun.

"I want to hear it from you," he hears him answer directly to his ears and Soobin shivers.

He pulls back and locks his eyes with the older's, breath fanning Yeonjun's lips. He gives a small, tentative smile, whispering the words like he's sharing a secret, "You're attractive," he lightly bumps his nose with Yeonjun's.

He then pulls away from him, running towards the sea, dampened sand beneath his bare feet.

Soobin chases the waves when they retreat, running away when they chase him back, laughing loudly.

He turns to look at Yeonjun who was watching him, his hand in his pocket and the other holding a bottle.

"What?" Soobin asks, shouting.

"Do you know?" Yeonjun doesn't answer him, only throws another question.

Soobin freezes, tilting his head, and musters Yeonjun.

"Know what?"

"The world smiles when you do."

Soobin's breath got stuck in his lungs, Yeonjun's words stealing the air away from him.

"Cheesy fuck," Soobin brushes off with a laugh, turning around again to hide the smile growing on his lips.

Yeonjun doesn't respond, only watches Soobin, how he yelps when his feet get wet, how he laughs when he tries to run away from the waves, how his eyes turn to crescents whenever he smiles, how his laugh sounds funny but infective, how he glows, how he looks so free that right at that moment, Yeonjun secretly tucks away the sight to the deepest part of his heart because he looks beautiful like that. He is the most beautiful person Yeonjun has ever laid his eyes on.

"Have you ever loved someone before?" Yeonjun asks after a while. Soobin stops, facing him fully, his feet getting wet when waves lick the shore. There's also a slight breeze, messing Soobin's hair, colors swirling and lining him.

"Romantically?"

Yeonjun nods, waiting for his answer. Soobin hums as he thinks, playing with his lips.

"Yeah," he replies after several minutes, nodding, "I don't think it's really love though."

Yeonjun takes a step closer to him, seizing him. He tilts his head and asks, "What's love to you then?"

Soobin stares at him long before giving him a small smile, "It's like," he scans Yeonjun's face, smile growing, eyes twinkling, "Home, not a house of stone, just a home, a home with a beating heart."

Soobin thinks that's how he realizes that maybe he's a little bit lost but a little more in love. Venice Beach at nine o'clock is alive, his heart dancing with the beat of the music, following the melody of Yeonjun's voice and adding his own notes to create a harmony.

Yeonjun keeps staring at him and he stares back. He doesn't know how many minutes had passed with each song flowing to the next. The mood of the playlist shifts seamlessly and Soobin sees bursts of deep violet and dark red as it changes into something more romantic.

"Does any of your past lovers ever told you," Yeonjun licks his lips, formulating his thoughts into words, "That you're breathtaking in ways unexplainable?"

Yeonjun's eyes stole Soobin's words away.

"Choi Soobin," He calls him, taking another step closer, "You told me how people left you after letting them see your vulnerabilities."

Soobin watches him get closer, leaving his footprints behind that got carried away by the waves.

"I think, they're pretty fucked up to do such thing," his voice is quiet but certain, eliciting bursts of yellow in Soobin's sight.

"You know why?" He stops in front of Soobin, their toes touching, breaths mingling, mixing in the evening air, somehow, Yeonjun finds his hand and grips it tight, "Because I saw you at your worst and still think you're the best."

When Soobin realizes he's in love, there's no fireworks. No grand scheme of things aligning. No bursts of colors. Falling in love with Choi Yeonjun was simple and silent, he didn't fall from a high jump, neither did he had the slightest idea that he would fall for this attractive, beautiful stranger. It just happened. Like waking up and realizing, Soobin's home.

Soobin doesn't belong anywhere but he thinks he does to one person.

"You're just saying that," his voice wobbles, breath getting stuck in his throat.

He's falling, falling, falling deeper and falling apart. Yeonjun holds his face between his hands, leaning close.

"I won't lie to you."

Yeonjun cups Soobin's jaw and tilts his chin and their first memory is of one kissing away the disquiet. And strangely, it is one that Soobin cannot bring himself to record.

*

This kind of something between them two is probably not a love story.

"Love you" are two words that are never said. They're too definitive, too abrupt without motive, solid evidence and rationalized explanations because at the end of each day sometimes Yeonjun is a stranger, sometimes Yeonjun is a book, and today and tomorrow, Yeonjun is Soobin's home.

Soobin pulls away from the kiss, Yeonjun chasing him. He chuckles and cups his cheeks, pushing it away gently.

"Stop," he says in between laughter when Yeonjun resorts to kissing his neck, down the juncture of his shoulders, to his shoulders, up to his collarbones, sucking on the skin just under his chin, and then pecking the corner of his lips.

Soobin was about to move away from his position on top of Yeonjun, the older stopping him by gripping his thighs, raising a brow at him, "Where do you think you're going?"

Soobin rolls his eyes, relaxing on Yeonjun's lap again, he plays with Yeonjun's locks, twirling them between his fingers, and “Don't you want to sleep?"

"I want to kiss you."

"You've been kissing me," Soobin frowns, he absentmindedly touched his lips. Yeonjun's eyes follow the movement.

"And? I still want to kiss you," Yeonjun takes Soobin's hand away from his lips, pecking each of his knuckles instead.

When he looks up at Soobin under his lashes, the younger was looking at him intently, lips parted and eyes focused.

"Why?"

Soobin shakes his head, smiling at him. He snakes his arms around the older's neck, snuggling close to him. His voice was muffled when he speaks but he knows Yeonjun heard.

Yeonjun always listens.

"I hope you understand how much your words mean to me."

Soobin sighs when he feels Yeonjun's lips on his head, his hands tight around Soobin's waist.

Yeonjun didn't respond but Soobin hears the 'I do' on the way he held Soobin that night while they sleep.

The moon as their only witness.

*

Uneasy stops and easy goes, crawling along with arms around waists and chins sunk into shoulders. That's how the next few months come to pass by.

Thin string holds them together. Soobin comes to know Yeonjun deeper, more than the surface of the shell of hard misanthropic.

Soobin learns that Yeonjun is a gentle romanticist. He pays attention to Soobin's sensitive spots whenever he kisses him, always finds time to kiss his thoughts away, his hand never straying too far from him, never leaving his skin.

Yeonjun is playful and sweet and thoughtful, Soobin's starting to learn every inch of him. From the way he always hums tunes under his breath, the way he holds the steering wheel with one hand and Soobin's on the other, the way he likes to order strong coffee in the morning and hot chocolate drink at night, the way he tilts his head when he's confused, the way he whines while pouting when Soobin opts to give him attention, the way he acts like a child at times and wise the next moment, the way he sleeps with his body bent, drool on his chin in the morning, the way he likes to kiss Soobin good morning and good night, the way he knows Soobin's mood just by looking at him, the way he makes Soobin feel so loved and appreciated.

The way moments shared with Yeonjun glow. When he annoys Soobin, when he teases him, when he sings for him, when he dances for him, when he plays with Soobin's fingers, when he runs his hands on the younger's hair, when he holds him, when he kisses him, when he looks at him. There are words Yeonjun doesn't tell him but his eyes speak and Soobin understands.

Soobin hears.

Today, Yeonjun brought him to the hilltop of Santa Monica Mountains, somewhere in the eastern part of it where they stand on the grounds of Griffith Park, a famous state park in California.

Soobin has always been aware and told of Yeonjun's love for astronomy that he wasn't surprise anymore that Yeonjun brought him here. When they went to Griffith Observatory, the older is visibly bouncing on his toes, excitement bubbling within him. Soobin was more entertained watching him than the moon and planets they viewed through the Zelss Telescope.

"We could've gone here during day, we can also view the sun through that solar telescope," Yeonjun tells him, pulling him somewhere to the exhibits part of the building.

"There's always next time," Soobin assures him gently, calming the eagerness radiating from him.

Yeonjun just nods at him and didn't ask when, didn't ask if they could have that, how much time was left.

They strolled silently in the walking trails of the park, scenic drives through the mountains offering views over the loud city of Los Angeles and beyond.

They decide to take a rest on a bench, city lights as the view in front. There weren't much people around then so it was silent, save for the buzzing noise of the suburban beyond them.

Yeonjun takes his hand, his eyes not leaving the night sky for a second. He admires the moon and the stars while Soobin admires him from the side.

"Why do you love astronomy so much?"

Yeonjun answers him not a second later, still not looking at him, "Why not," he grins, "It's interesting."

Soobin frowns, "That's it?"

Yeonjun chuckles boyishly, turning to give Soobin a look, "What do you expect me to answer?"

Soobin snorts, "I don't know, maybe a deeper reason."

"You can't just always ask why," Yeonjun faces him, mirth shining in his eyes.

Yeonjun's eyes hold the universe. He's so attractive, it hurts.

"Everything has a reason, I can always ask why," Soobin argues, his brows furrowed.

Yeonjun smoothens it out, caressing his cheek for a second before dropping his hand, "That's true, but not all questions need answer."

"That's bullshit too," Soobin snickers, turning away.

Yeonjun stares at him.

"What?" Soobin raised a brow.

Yeonjun smirks at him, turning away and shaking his head, "You're ugly."

"Then stop holding my hand," Soobin rolls his eyes.

Yeonjun only snickers, crossing his arms, still holding his hand, "No."

Silence befalls between them, it's comfortable and peaceful. Soobin had a thought of wanting to stay in that moment forever before brushing it off. It's stupid to want those kinds of things.

"I'm not a very good human being. I haven't been one," Yeonjun begins when Soobin stares at him again. Soobin almost flinches, except somehow he's not surprised to hear this from Yeonjun, his low timber and the cracks around each syllable, a kind of grudging reluctance, shy naivety despite the words, "I've hurt everyone who has ever really tried for me. Even myself. I'm a coward, and I take it out on other people because... I'm afraid of admitting it."

"You did right now though," Soobin responds, looking down at their joined hands, "That should amount to something."

Yeonjun heaves a breath in, "Yeah, I just, I just want to tell someone this," he says, wistful, "Because moments, chances get lost in a blink of an eye, you know, but regret," he looks at Soobin and gives him a small smile.

"That shit could last a lifetime."

Soobin nods, not breaking the eye contact. He thinks Yeonjun's right. It was the sad truth that sometimes it's too late and that's the thing about time.

No one can get it back.

Soobin smiles at him back, bigger and brighter, "Yeah, I don't get why people complicate life so much. We won't be here forever. Once this day is over, it's gone forever," he chuckles, gesturing using his hands, "It's just, your time is too valuable to waste on nonsense."

Yeonjun nods too, a smile growing on his face. He chuckles quietly and stares at Soobin's eyes, "Fucking right."

Soobin mindlessly holds his breath. At that moment, Yeonjun's eyes reflect the glow of the moon, of the stars and everything mesmerizing.

Yeonjun, like stars, is everything Soobin ever wanted and everything he knew he could not have.

"Do you know?" Soobin asks in a small voice, though his eyes never waver locked with Yeonjun's.

Yeonjun hums, smiling at him, "Know what?"

"I'd make space for you even if I have none left."

Yeonjun's smile drops, his eyes dimming. Soobin almost thought he said something wrong if not for the older still holding his hand tight.

When Yeonjun pulls him close and kisses him, Soobin is struck.

Their mouths open at the same time and they both suck a breath in like they're being burned from the inside out. Heat erupts under Soobin's skin when their tongues meet, dancing against each other. It feels like the first time all over again.

The fire sinks into his chest first, before Yeonjun nibbles at his lower lip, fluttering his eyes open.

"Funny because I'd do the same."

Soobin glows that night, galaxies in his eyes.

Yeonjun has never loved anything more before than astronomy and the living embodiment of it beside him.

-

Yeonjun asks him to sing for him at one point, one night after the long, long days they've been on the road.

They were in the hotel room's balcony, thirty-six floors above the ground. Yeonjun is holding Soobin's hand instead of a cigarette stick and they're close enough for Soobin to count his lashes.

So he does, sings a song about love and poison and feelings, each note flowing seamlessly between them that Yeonjun grasps between his hands, the kind that lingers just long enough in his ears, in his heart, in his soul to evaporate by the time he learns to want again.

There's something about the way Yeonjun looks at him that night, that makes Soobin almost drop his heart in his hand and give it to him, and certainly the time signature of the song. It doesn't take long before Soobin crops off entirely, because that is when Yeonjun has closed the distance between them, pretty lips breathing blues over sleek perspiration. Soobin's heart thud against his chest with semi intentional touch of wrists and whisper of, "You're attractive," and "I dare you, really"

The game of dares turns lethal when the door shuts and leaves Soobin crushing Yeonjun into the bed. "Say that again, you dare me?"

There is a game in Yeonjun's eyes and a challenge in the small partition between his lips and Soobin has no idea what might happen, but the moment Yeonjun lapped his lips with Soobin's, everything combusts, turns into fingers digging into back of necks and messes of tongues and breathlessness and bumping knees against hips. Everything's almost too natural to break all of the invisible barriers between two people, reach across and touch the reality over one another's flesh.

Hand over hand, lips over lips, crevices into slopes and speed into hesitation.

A strong wave of pleasure punches him numb and inarticulate; Yeonjun's back arched, his jaw drops but nothing comes out but ragged breath.

Words come spilling out of Soobin's mouth without filter. This is when he was most vulnerable. Naked and giving his heart to this man, this stranger he met months ago. His words sending Yeonjun deeper into ecstasy.

As they fall back onto the bed together, their hearts synchronized with the other, Soobin kisses Yeonjun on his mouth, feeling warmth erupt inside his chest.

Soobin has loved many times. But this love.. it makes Soobin feel like he's burning.

*

There are moments when Soobin watches Yeonjun interact with music. May it be composing or singing or playing instruments. He pretends not to notice Yeonjun's voice breaks and his shortened for breath, not significantly but just not enough. Hesitant bucks of inhales, fear and desire every exhales.

It's as if his muscles are straining for something his lungs hold back, as if he's caught perpetually chasing some melody that is always a beat faster. Yeonjun probably knows it himself; the glimmer of frustration and grief reflected in his pupils are unmistakable.

Then there are moments when Soobin sings that he notices the clenching and unclenching of Yeonjun's fist. The pale color in his lower lip, the downcast eye, the surrendered shoulders. Everything falls apart not with a shout but with the inevitable gasp for air. Needy, urgent, barely.

But eventually, even those moments disappear. No more frustration, or grief, no movement, no voice, not a single struggle. Just an apparition when they sing the same song and breathe the same air. Disintegrating into particles of light and dust.

*

Soobin has no idea what went wrong, when things start to escalate quickly.

The sky seems grim that day, as if the clouds are broken, the sun still seems so far away.

The echoing sound of a loud thud every time Soobin's heels hit the asphalt was not enough to kill the thoughts running rampant in murderous intent. Soobin watches his back as his feet dig stubbornly on the ground without appreciation, burning in hatred and panic over the chase.

He runs even when his lungs burn, trying to outrun and at least hide from his bodyguards. Soobin doesn't know how the fuck they knew where he was. He was aware that when he used his passport, they could easily track him but Soobin doesn't expect them to find him somewhere in LA so fast.

He dodged everyone that's on his way, muttering rushed apologies, not taking a second to stop. His heart is beating too fast in his chest, perspiration starting to form on his forehead. He is breathing through quick inhales and exhales, air not really filling his lungs. The only thought in his mind right now is to run and run and hide.

Soobin's not ready yet, he needs more time. More time away, more time with Yeonjun, more time with that beautiful, attractive stranger. He's just asking for more time, a month longer, or a week, a day, a minute, even just a second.

A second more.

He spots Yeonjun's car, the older waiting for him as he leans on it, observing his surroundings. Soobin immediately yells at him to start the car and drive, pulling open the side door more aggressive than he intents.

Yeonjun was clearly surprise at his shout, confused really at the sudden outburst but he didn't question, only follows the demand and speeds up the car. Soobin didn't dare breathe until he can't spot men in black anymore, crown logo on their collar. He only allowed himself to take a breathe again when Yeonjun side eyed him and held his hand, squeezing it tight.

Yeonjun didn't speak but there's a question in his eyes, Soobin pretends not to notice. He looks away and directs his gaze to the passing scenery by the window. Yeonjun was still driving fast, not too fast to cause commotion in LA streets, just enough to escape. Just enough to ask for more time, for more seconds.

He has a deadline, Soobin knew. He was aware the first second he decided to run away, he knew it when he tried and learned to live independently, he knew it when he stood in front of a curious stranger, he knew it when he gave his name to that same, attractive man, he knew it when his walls crumbled down, he knew it on the first kiss, he knew it with every moments they shared.

That truth sneaks up to him today, eating him whole. He wants to collect as many memories as he can and carved everything in his mind but the regret that comes from the sadistic truth keeps him chained down on his place. He would try to drown it out with anything to fill the emotionless void but even the lowest volume setting seems to cry out at him, drawing out every feelings that he wished would have subsided, but wouldn't.

His heart was pumping because of adrenaline. Just what if those guys got him, just what if he loses everything that matters to him right now, just what if he got caught. He heaves a big inhale, looking at Yeonjun beside him.

What would happen to this beautiful, lonely man?

His mind refused to stop thinking. Soobin's uneven breaths rendered him dizzy and mad; there were moments when he had to remind himself how to...

"Breathe," Yeonjun says over the daze in Soobin's mind, he pecks the back of Soobin's palm once, twice then thrice and smiles softly at him, "I'm here now."

Soobin trembles and breaks.

They are running out of time.

-

"Let's go far away," Soobin whispers to Yeonjun.

Yeonjun's head is on his lap, the younger's hand running through his hair, the space at the backside of the car is small and narrowed especially for two grown men but they both managed to squeeze their bodies just fine. They don't mind the small space, the proximity to each other is what matters.

Soobin needs Yeonjun close anyway.

"Let's go to Riverside?" Yeonjun smiles up at him, Soobin's other hand intertwined with his.

Soobin loves his smile, more than life itself.

He smiles back and nods.

"Any where’s fine," as long as I'm with you.

*

They're sitting cross-legged on the balcony. Mildewed walls behind them and an unending country of suburbs etherized before. Soobin wonders, there must be a real world somewhere out there, where laughter doesn't seem so impossible on the barren of desolation on Yeonjun's face.

"You look upset," Soobin said without looking at Yeonjun who gave him a blank look.

"I'm not."

"You really are upset."

"I said I'm not."

"Why are you so upset?"

"Stop asking."

"I," Soobin blinked thrice, surprise by the other's remark. "You're mean," He mumbled, looking away.

Yeonjun shakes his head as he flicks off the end of his stick.

The man beside him smokes wearily. Soobin feels this alien, emptied sensation watching him. Like something cracking slowly, deeply, irreversibly within him. It doesn't feel right.

"Why are you smoking?" Soobin asks.

Yeonjun gave him a lopsided grin. "Someone asked me the same question once, you know."

Soobin quirks his brow, "What?"

Yeonjun shrugged, taking a deep drag before exhaling a lungful of unhealthy smoke. "He asked me what makes me miserable, he asked me why I smoke."

Soobin eyed him carefully, a tinge of regret flickered in his orbs that Yeonjun somehow missed. "And what did you tell him?"

Yeonjun laces his fingers into Soobin's and holds them together, invisible blood smudges from unbearable pain smearing over sweaty palms.

"I told him that my time is always running away from me. It means, I'm dying."

Soobin opened his mouth to speak but Yeonjun kissed his lips to stop him.

"Here are the facts I wasn't able to let you know and I don't really want you to. I'm going to die, I have a lung cancer called Emphysema. One day you're going to forget me, you'll forget about us. Not even because of illness but because of time and that's what time does anyway. It takes the little pieces. The insignificant ones first, and then it sneaks the significant ones."

There is nothing in the air but heavy breathing, and maybe a hinge of sob in Soobin's throat.

"What?" He asks wearily, more tired than the ashes crumbling off the end of Yeonjun's cigarette. Lighting up and fading into gray. Lighting up and fading, fading.

"The doctor said two years," and Yeonjun tries to smile but failed, perhaps because he knew how hurt Soobin is right now.

Soobin gave the cigarette a hateful glance as he snatch it away from Yeonjun, throwing it away, just when his tears start to fall.

"Asshole," Soobin muttered, wiping the tears away but it just keeps on falling anyway.

"You're fucking stupid, fuck you, fuck you!" Soobin repeatedly hits him on the arm. He knows it's weak but he's mad. He's really, badly mad at Yeonjun, at himself, at everything.

Yeonjun only stares at Soobin, not bothering to argue back or stop him, perhaps because he understands.

"Fuck you, Choi Yeonjun. I fucking hate you, I hate you so much."

"I know."

Yeonjun doesn't speak for a long time. Soobin's eyes are red. His lips are white. The silence is black.

"You could've told me earlier, you could've..." Soobin trails off when a sob wacked his body.

Yeonjun pulled their connected hands in so close, Soobin can feel his exhales on his skin.

"I don't regret anything, Soobin."

Soobin bows his head, hugging his knees close.

Yeonjun only watches him with downcast eyes and surrendered shoulders.

After a long struggle, Yeonjun manages to break the silence and spit out the words he badly wants Soobin to hear.

"Soobin, listen to me," he looks up to Yeonjun, smearing tears over dried lips, "We have a deadline, we both know it. I know what you're running away from Choi Soobin, I know you couldn't find time any longer and I? I am dying. But all the moments we had, everything, I'll hold onto them, it doesn't matter if time takes them away, I don't care. I can stay as stranger to you forever, Soobin but I want you to know that no matter how far I wander away from you, I'll bring a piece of you everywhere with me because this? Us? It was something."

Soobin breathes sharply, he can do nothing but take and cry.

He breathes in deeply before speaking, "Forget it, I don't care. You're dying, so what. I have all the time, Yeonjun, we can have all the time we want. As long as I can breathe, I can run," his voice trembles while his heart repeatedly breaks into thousand pieces.

"Don't shit around, Soobin," Yeonjun chuckles even though his eyes are shining with tears, "You can't run away forever. You told me yourself, no one can. You can stop now, you're braver than you thought, face them, face your family."

"You're wrong," then a sob, "I'm wrong too."

Yeonjun opens his mouth to say something but Soobin smiles sadly at him.

"This is all wrong."

They are like matches struck together, twice as bright and twice as hot but their time burnt out twice as fast.

*

Riverside, Soobin learns, is a populous city. The city constantly buzzes from the unending chatters of people and hums of engines.

Yeonjun brings him to Mt. Rubidoux Park, somewhere in Riverside County. It was still dawn when they get there, not much people yet, it features paved roads and several dirt hiking.

Soobin stares at him when Yeonjun told him they're going to hike. He didn't ask whether Yeonjun's going to be okay because Yeonjun avoided his eyes, like he doesn't really want Soobin to ask, like he doesn't really want Soobin to remember he's dying, that his lungs are weak, so Soobin shuts his mouth and went along with it, promising himself that he won't let Yeonjun get tired.

The morning starts cool, their windbreakers chilled and as the sun rises, it warms up. When they got to the top, hours later, the sun is breaking into morning.

There aren't much people around them as they took a seat on a paved trail to the top, both waiting for the sun to rise quietly.

Yeonjun caged their hands together, fingers interlaced with elbows set on knees. Their shoulders graze and when he finally broke the silence, he utters his name softly.

"Choi Soobin."

Soobin looks at him and hums, "Why?"

"I like your name," he responds softly.

Soobin sighs, snaking his arm around Yeonjun's shoulders, pulling his head to lean on his shoulder, kissing his head.

They are close but there is silence between them. Even the quiet murmuring of the people nearby starts to hurt his ears.

Soobin feels tired, emotionally exhausted. Though Yeonjun is waiting for a rebuttal, though they're both waiting for a rebuttal, Soobin doesn't have anything to say at the moment. His sigh wrack through his body heavy and awful and he can't manage the slightest protest when the older starts to rambles on.

"Sometimes, you think you're escaping until you run unto yourself. Twenty six years later, it turns out that the longest way round is the shortest way home, and you've been running in circles since the get-go. What a riot, huh?"

Then a shriek of bitter laugh to punctuate the dull anger, "It was plain miserable, the saddest truth that dawn at you the moment you realize you didn't even want to come home, because there's no home."

Soobin wanted to protest but his sentence stops on a verb when Yeonjun pulls away and puts his hand on his neck. Yeonjun rekindles it on a conjunction when Soobin gaped at the touch. A distinct grin lights up his entire face, small and somehow forced and pained. No teeth but darker than the universe and all the black, as Yeonjun says, "You're my home, you know. Just thought I should tell you that."

"I," Soobin begins, and that is when it dawns that he has nothing to say. Yeonjun's hand is warm and heavy and perfect against his skin.

You're my home, too.

"I want you to learn about me today, not the Yeonjun yesterday, or the last month or the last eleven months. I want you to know the Yeonjun today. I want you to know how I feel, why I brought you here today, what my first thought is whenever I see you and I don't care how many times I have to repeat these lines, I just want you to know," He smiles, "Not remember."

"Yeonjun," he calls gently.

"What?"

"I know, I understand," and Soobin has no idea what he's doing when he put his hands on top of Yeonjun's and feels the flux of warmth into his palm. "And let me know then, I'd love to know more things about you. It's horrible. In a nice way."

Yeonjun probably meant to laugh, but at some point the laughter shifted into coughs that double them both over. And while they sprawl out over the trail side by side, dust in their hair and time in their fingers, Soobin caressed Yeonjun's face for a second, feels the air wheezing in and out and closes his eyes, "I want you to learn about me, too. Today, let's breathe."

When Soobin looks at Yeonjun that day under the glow of a breaking dawn, Soobin learns to want. He'd love to see him under the same sunrise and in different places.

They can only wish.

*

There are questions Soobin doesn't ask Yeonjun. He doesn't ask why there are pills, Tessalon Perles, Phenergan, Codeine, and really, even the vomit container inside Yeonjun's car.

There are questions Yeonjun doesn't ask Soobin too. He doesn't ask Soobin if they can stay forever, or how many tomorrows are really left, he doesn't. Because sometimes, the truth is too bright.

He can only hold onto the seconds, each gesture, each contact, each syllable. Yeonjun comes in seconds. Everything comes in seconds.

If only seconds could last long enough.

The second time Soobin almost got caught was in San Diego. Soobin barely escapes the men hunting him, hiding in alleyways and running away because that's what he's good at.

Yeonjun doesn't question him whenever Soobin demands him to drive, whenever Soobin asks him to run away with him.

Soobin thinks they are made for better days.

-

They're two souls floating on a rooftop. They're seventy-three floors up into the night, almost high enough to blow stars into constellations, yet still too close to earth. Soobin counts the number of pills left in Yeonjun's plastic orange bottle while Yeonjun watches breeze ripple into the air and dissipate.

"What's it like?" Soobin asks.

"What's what like?"

"Knowing your deadline," Soobin shrugs, "Your expiration date? Limited time? I don't know what you call it. Dead end?"

Yeonjun tucks his hand underneath his head, and they gaze up together at the sky dotted with stars.

"It's like someone sticks a ticking bomb on you and you're too panicked, you don't do anything. It's like anytime someone will shout at you that your time is up and you can't do anything but to surrender. It's like dying, shouting without voice, running without space, drowning without water."

Soobin swallows. The air between them shifts over their toes; distant mutters of the city below carry his voice away that he can't bring himself to speak.

"And how about you?" Yeonjun grins at him, turning to face Soobin fully, "What's it like being with a dying person?"

Soobin looks deep into the sky, "It's like dying too," and never before has he wished so bad to live just a little longer.

Their knees touch. Yeonjun inhales oxygen but exhales bitter wishes. Tonight, they smell of ink and rain and cotton and street-side snacks, metallic fall and each other.

"I'll tell you what," Yeonjun turns, a flicker of absence over his expression, "Soobin, before we met, I loved this particular someone. He was from America. Beomgyu. My first love, I suppose, and please, don't interrupt me," Yeonjun cuts him before Soobin can even manage a slight protest as to why would he story-tell Soobin about his ex-lover, "I respected him, loved him and he took care of me. And then one day I broke. Cracked under the pressure and pain and I was sick of everything. I took it out on him, lashed out on him because I was a jerk. He tried to fix me. Everyone tried to fix me. But you know fixing a person isn't like fixing a toy. When you fix a person, you put yourself up to be broken."

Yeonjun wheezes for a while, hands reaching for Soobin's, "And then two years later, I have this friend. He's Taehyun, I've mentioned him to you before. He's a good friend really, a great dancer too. He's basically in a relationship with someone very important to him and he wants us to meet. So we met up. It was inevitable," Yeonjun pants, taking a break from speaking too long.

"But you know what? That's the moment I realize the world's really cruel, it's a riot. It was Beomgyu. The person Taehyun wanted me to meet so badly. And you know what's ridiculous? He still remembers what kind of coffee I drank, my taste in music. Three years and he didn't even try to forget me. He looks like crap even if he's in love with Taehyun. You know why? It's the memories. They're killing him. I can't save him from them. Neither can Taehyun," Yeonjun grimaces, and suddenly, the air no longer flows but sputters from his teeth, "No one can save anyone from their memories."

It's clear what Yeonjun's getting at, Soobin attempts fighting his next words but it's ultimately impossible.

"And Soobin, don't remember losing me, really, because this way I can save you. This way when I fuck up, you won't have to carry it. Being forgotten isn't unbearable compared to being remembered. I can stand dying at the end of all this, Soobin. It's okay to forget me."

Soobin doesn't hear Yeonjun's loud, "I'm dying anyway," that gets lost somewhere in the stars, instead he hears the muted, "Don't let me die," in the fingers that Yeonjun laces into his own. So he leans in and presses their noses together and takes away a lungful of nicotines shadows and ground painkillers and bitter opioids.

"You know why you always look so old? Because you think you aren't worth remembering, because nothing is ideal and you're right, nothing is ideal. But every moment with you is worth remembering, Yeonjun. Every time you fuck up, I'll get to see a human and I don't care if in three years I'll look like crap, like Beomgyu for you. It might be because I'll remember having you and every memory, and I can be hurt every time I'll remember losing you but, for me, to love and to hurt and break myself down for someone worth it—"

Yeonjun slides his fingers onto the back of Soobin's neck and pulls him close. Soobin's eyes flutter closed when Yeonjun softly pressed his lips against each of his eyelids. Soobin releases a shaky breath and he does it again, and again, and again until his lips have memorized the shape of Soobin's eyes.

It's gently mesmerizing and Soobin feels Yeonjun's lips venture down the slope of his nose to his lips, not really kissing him, just a brush of soft touch, breathing him in.

_You're beautiful. My heart is full of you. You're underneath my skin._

When Yeonjun finally presses his lips against him, Soobin forgets how to breathe. Heat erupts under his skin when their tongues met and danced against each other. The heat sinks deeper into his skin, igniting a fire when he shifts his weight so he's leaning on Soobin now, balancing on an elbow on Soobin's side, a hand placed beside his head, and a knee between his legs.

Their proximity is a familiar pressure in his chest, something that fills Soobin but also feels unbearably overwhelming. When Soobin rolls his tongue against Yeonjun, he tastes like bitter pills and when he sucks the tip, Yeonjun shifts, kissing the corner of his lips.

"Choi Yeonjun," Soobin breathes out when Yeonjun gently presses butterfly kisses to his cheek, sliding to the side until he reaches Soobin's ear and whispers, "You're attractive," and nibbles his lobes.

Soobin chuckles, his hand losing its way in the tangles of Yeonjun's fading blue hair, "You're realizing that only now?"

Yeonjun buries his face in his neck, chuckling lightly.

They stayed in that position for minutes that stretch into hours.

They return to their hotel room at three in the morning. Everything feels like it shifted even more perfectly into place.

Time doesn't matter the way it did yesterday, urgency no longer rushing them. Yeonjun sets an awfully slow pace and Soobin lets him, savoring even the smallest sensation.

Soobin's breath hitches in his throat as Yeonjun's hands work their way on his body slowly. He takes his time undressing Soobin, like he's unwrapping a present, his lips attached to his neck as his fingers slide underneath the hem of Soobin's shirt.

Yeonjun's mouth and tongue explore each newly revealed expanse of skin and Soobin feels his whole body on fire, searing every touch and every kiss into memory.

Yeonjun seems to relish in every small tremble as he ghosts his fingers into Soobin's skin, the sensations are almost too much. Soobin's completely out of breath by the time his shirt has finally come off.

"You're attractive," Yeonjun repeats the same two words, like he's making up for the lack of the other three words he badly wanted to let Soobin hear but too afraid. The softly whispered words ghost warm breath across Soobin's face as Yeonjun pulls him close to kiss him again, like he can't get enough and Soobin's back to feeling breathless all over again.

Yeonjun keeps kissing him until Soobin's back meets the mattress and continues undressing him, peppering kisses across his chest but then he slows down again. When Soobin's eyes find Yeonjun's in the dark room, lightly illuminated by moonlight filtering through the window next to the bed, he sees mutual understanding in the way Yeonjun's lips work their way up to kiss his chest where his fast beating heart is, up to his jaw, to his lips, to the tip of his nose, up to his forehead.

Soobin knew they weren't meant to be but for a moment, in that exact moment, it felt like they were.

*

"I think I'm lost," Yeonjun mumbles.

Soobin looks at him when he felt Yeonjun pull him closer by the waist in the narrowed space the bed avails them. There was a breath between them as Soobin stares at Yeonjun's eyes full of stars and he whispers, "You're not lost."

"No, I'm going to be more lost. Lost, and lost, and then," Yeonjun whispers back, sticking their foreheads together, "One day, poof, I'll be gone. I'll be to the world like those photos in your polaroid are to you. Don't remember losing me, Soobin."

Soobin's voice is cracking all over the place and nails are digging up cottons when he finally speaks, "No, no. Don't go poof."

Yeonjun snorts, the dismissive kind of mockery that snarls you're just saying it, and makes Soobin want to grab everything just so he can show Yeonjun that he literally deserves nothing but the best in the world and Soobin won't let the world take him away.

Silence reigned like some kind of surrendered flags. Soobin thinks, he's breaking all over again just when Yeonjun mended him.

Yeonjun can break and mend him and Soobin lets him have the power.

"Let's go back," Yeonjun mutters under his breath, bowing his head. Soobin pursed his lips when something strong clogs his throat.

"Go back where?" His voice trembles at the end of the syllables but Soobin holds himself together.

He knew this day would come, he wasn't just ready. He doesn't think he would ever be ready.

"I'll give you my pay tomorrow and," Yeonjun swallows when his voice starts to break, "I'll drive you back to LA, back to your place."

Soobin clenches his jaw and scoots far away from Yeonjun, biting his lips hard as tears start to obstruct his sight, "Fuck you, you're so terrible."

Yeonjun doesn't try to fight his words, doesn't try to get close. He only shuts his eyes and looks up to the ceiling, stopping his eyes from tearing.

"I know," he whispers weakly.

"I don't want to go," He knows his rebut is weak, it doesn't really matter anymore but he just wants Yeonjun to know.

He doesn't want to go back because his home is there, beside him. How could he just leave when Yeonjun holds his heart between his palms?

"I know," Yeonjun looks at him then, smiling at him sadly.

Soobin hates how unattractive he looks that moment.

He's running out of time.

They've run out of time.

*

July is the cruelest month and its last day is the most bitter.

The weather is clear, the sky void of clouds. It isn't too hot or too cold that day, just enough for the wind to freely reign in. It isn't too loud too but not too silent. The roars of engines and the buzz of people just enough to harmonize with the sound of breeze occasionally tangling their hair up. Beyond, the world continues to revolve and run and Soobin—he sits there motionless, his downcast eyes directed outside the car window parked up in front of a cheap apartment that was squeezed in between a cheap grocery store and a cheap pizza restaurant. The sign, Rent Available, mocking him on the face.

He hates the sight. He feels something burning in his throat.

"Choi Soobin," the man beside him calls.

He ignores him, gulps everything down, putting his hand over his lips as he faces the window more.

"Hey," Yeonjun gently pries his hand, holding it between his own. When Soobin still vehemently ignores him, he sighs.

"This will be the last time and you still won't look at me."

Soobin absolutely hates the dejection in his voice.

There is only silence.

It falls and when it falls, it never rises again.

Soobin's swollen eyes and the taste of bitter acid that wouldn't wash out with mugs of milk don't disappear easily. His heart clenches as Yeonjun reaches out and touches his hands.

In silence comes the cruelest response.

"Will you say my name?" Yeonjun whispers, pleads.

When Soobin finally looks at him, he sees his reflection in the eyes of the stranger beside him. The eye contact feels more like a deliberate scrutinize than an inane reflection. More frightening than tense, more awful than pain.

Soobin trembles, clears his throat and tries to replicate the syllables, but somehow they're stuck in his throat even as he opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. By the time he reaches up to touch Yeonjun by the neck, he realizes he's shaking than ever and that there is something wrong. The world is coming down on him in slow motion and his heart hurts, really, very bad.

"Yeon..." Soobin gulps down the hesitation and focuses on the bare syllables, "Yeonjun."

"Thank you, thank you," And the second thank you is said softly, almost as if it's meant for more significant things. Perhaps something of a, 'thank you for meeting me, finding me, digging me up from the debris of broken pieces. Thank you for giving me life, tears, wishes and bright and happy memories I can hold onto in my room when the tapestries have shut off the sun. Thank you for teaching me how bright fireflies can shine.'

And Soobin does hear everything. He hears LA at noon, the whistles of breeze and Yeonjun wheezing for breath.

"You're welcome."

It's almost breathtaking how broken the stranger looks from this angle, all fabrics caving over blades of bones, sharp angles and emaciated lines. None of them is crying but it feels like the world is coming down on them that very moment.

There's no other words exchanged, they just breathed there. Soobin knows he should be getting off by now but he can't bring himself to move. There are words pinning him down to his place that he couldn't afford to utter, not because they're not authentic but because it might hurt them more once he speak more.

_Love never made sense before you._ But Soobin shuts his mouth and heaves a breath in. When he clutches the door handle, he breathes out, a sob hitching in his throat.

Time stands on its toes until the door opens, and Soobin says nothing but could've done everything. The steps his feet beget are quiet and gentle but heavy. The sun shines down on him but Soobin only sees dark and he starts to feel suffocated as though he was in a maze and fossilized the constant sharp intake of oxygen.

He stumbles when he got off the car but he doesn't stop. He doesn't look back.

Soobin walks away from Yeonjun, that beautiful, lonely, stranger.

Soobin, for the last time, thinks Yeonjun is a book he will never finish because the thought of not knowing him tomorrow makes him sick.

Today, he doesn't have strength to finish the book, so he slams it shut and tucked away.

Soobin can't stay if Yeonjun wants him to go.

Somewhere between hello and goodbye, there was love. So much love.

*

When Soobin sees men in black, coming his way, he didn't blink an eye.

When Soobin gets drag back to hell, he didn't cry.

When his father slapped him in the face, he didn't flinch.

When they locked him in his room, he didn't argue.

He stares and stares and stares and wonders why his heart feels so heavy, like something was taken out of his core.

When Huening Kai, Soobin's step-brother, hugged him, that's when he cried.

Kai didn't ask and Soobin didn't speak. He lets his sob be the one to tell his pain.

Because one day, he fell. One day, he lost.

Up until now, he's still lost.

-

Unlike his usual norm, Soobin's eyes didn't flutter against sunlight seeping through the windows. With a gentle nudged from the breeze, he woke up to a soft sound attempting to shake him awake in careful back and forth motion. Groaning, he instinctively turned his head against the pillow, his hands gliding their way over the mattress, trying to look for familiar warmth but to his dismay, nothing came.

He doesn't know what he is expecting early in the morning, he doesn't know himself. And it felt normal for Soobin, normal but god-awful.

The world could've been falling and collapsing around him and even then, it would have all be in the farthest corner of Soobin's mind. Time had passed but he just continued gazing on his bedroom's low ceiling. There was something in him that kept him from ignoring the empty feeling inside him, there was something in his guts that screams at him that sounded so much like regret.

Leaving and sleeping away the darkness of the world without a word to clear his mind, early in the morning would've sufficed him, but Soobin refuses to succumb to such cowardly move. Standing up with a heavy heart did not lessen the uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest, instead it stings more.

He feels incomplete, like a big part in him was stolen. So void that he can't help but to notice the sunlight that doesn't seem to bother to reach Soobin's luxurious room. His room had never felt so dark. Even closing his eyes threw a tarp over him with much lighter shade of black than his plain, rectangular room. Frowning, Soobin roamed his eyes around, trying to pinpoint what's been missing, the reason for the barren of desolation heaved in his chest.

Or maybe, he knows exactly why he feels empty but refuses to acknowledge the reason. Refuses to think of a certain stranger with stupid hair and stupid smile and left him with stupid memories.

He felt the throbbing of his head, his headache making simple tasks like reaching over the table a hassle. But Soobin forced himself to live another day anyways.

He blinks away the heavy feeling and squints his eyes, spotting a piece of paper tucked in between the clothes in his luggage. Biting his lips, he reached out and grabbed the paper.

A chain of words scribbled inside.

> _My name is Yeonjun._
> 
> _I'm a dancer._
> 
> _I don't like writing. Words confuse me. It was bullshit, really. Writing is not just about stroking and putting words in a white, vacant paper. It's all about raw emotions and wearing your heart on your sleeves. It revels in the stillness between lies and truth, the drone of empty promises and its uneven, constant reminders of differences. And I hate all of it, or anything to do with emotions, really. It makes you weak, bitter and sometimes clueless, you wouldn't even know what to do anymore. It's like trains and wheels and polyester and wax, they go but they don't go together. Words are like that._
> 
> _But I'm going to tell you—no, write anyways. Because I have so much things left to tell you. I haven't got enough time to tell you how fucking annoying you are. Even just simply thinking of you makes my heart do that stupid, stupid thump. It's fucking inconvenient, really, if you ask me._
> 
> _You see here, Choi Soobin, meeting you was unexpected, it wasn't in my plan to meet you. But chasing after you and keeping you are two things I never regret doing and they are my favorite choices in life. Honestly, when I met you, I had no idea you'd end up meaning so much to me but look at us now, look at where your god fuck destiny brought us._
> 
> _I don't have much time to tell you all the things I wanted to. This piece of paper is soon going to be torned and forgotten and I'll probably be the same to you. And it's okay. But I wanted to write this because maybe, the ink will stay longer than the memories of me to you. I just wanted you to know, not remember._
> 
> _I want you to know that you carry so much love to you, don't be afraid to choose love in a world rapidly choosing hate. I shared with you the parts of me I never even shared to myself before and I know that's vogue but anyway. Choi Soobin, don't forget to give love to yourself. You don't always have to be who they want you to be._
> 
> _I want you to know that you're so much more. See yourself through your own eyes, find beauty where they told you they could not._
> 
> _I think I'll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies. It's cheesy as fuck but it's true._
> 
> _Soobin, you and I—we didn't have a good start, and I don't think we'll have a beautiful ending either. I don't know much about you, I don't have any fucking idea about your age, about your family or your friends, about your educational background which— I don't even give a fuck to know because I memorized the way you speak, they way you smell, the shape of you, the way you smile, the reasons you get angry or hurt or happy. I don't know the basic things about you like your birthday or your zodiac sign but I know the way you sleep, the look on your face when you're focused, the mess of your hair in the morning, drool on the corners of your lips and crumbs on your eyes and you know what, you're still the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on. Without a doubt._
> 
> _I'm not gonna ask you to forget me anymore, because I know it hurts you just how much it pains me. This is not goodbye, I'm not gonna tell you I love you too either and other sad fuck clichés. This is me asking you, Soobin, to be happy._
> 
> _I will just be a happy memory to you. Every moment. You didn't record them but they'll last. Every single time our eyes catch, when we sprawl ourselves out against the night sky, telltale grazes of knuckles between shallow breathes. It will be something inexplicably warm, transient, light. A little like fireflies. Not a sad memory. Instead the kind of something that lingers just long enough in your palms to disappear by the time you learn to want. The kind of something that tells you this has happened before, and that happiness from remembering comes stronger than pain and nostalgia, they'll fly away. Slip between your fingers like a fleeting memory._
> 
> _You deserve happiness so I left and this will probably be the last time and you won't hear from me ever again. And maybe, someday, we will be two people meeting again for the first time._
> 
> _And maybe, in that lifetime, we will be brave enough to love each other out loud._
> 
> _I want to tell you this at least once. Just to get it off my chest. That Choi Soobin, you're attractive._
> 
> _And that, I love you, stranger._
> 
> _-cyj_

*

Thin string holds Soobin's memories together that he tries so hard to grasp, replaying everything inside his head. He doesn't try to speak them into words, as if the moment he opens his mouth, those memories would combust into thin air.

He doesn't tell anyone about the beautiful stranger he met, about all the times they spent together. He doesn't speak about LA and Riverside and San Diego, doesn't talk about the sea, the car, the sky, the ship, the stars, the pills, the tears, the kisses, the love.

Soobin at 26 learns that sometimes, some people grow roots inside him. They stay even when they leave and he has learned to believe that sometimes, they remain as long as he exists.

Smiles always erupt from under Soobin's frown, swelling slowly into raucous laughter whenever he thinks of the stranger, of them. Too big. Too forced. He's laughing as if he's afraid he'll forget once he stops thinking of them for one second. As if he's afraid all the lights will turn off if he doesn't keep up his display.

So, Kai wraps his arms around Soobin when no one is watching. He tells Soobin that it's okay. He doesn't have to laugh so hard. That he understands whatever it is.

Apparently, Yeonjun lied. Because Soobin heard from him anyway, from Kai when he saw the letter on the bedside table of Soobin's room and looked for him, looked for that one guy that's making his brother drift a little more further away each day. As if Soobin is slowly becoming a stranger himself and crumble in front of him.

When Kai grabbed Soobin's left hand that night and pulled out a pen, Soobin lets himself hope. He writes something on the back of his palm, ink smudged and engraved on his skin.

Before Soobin can utter a single word, Kai already starts to walk away again. When he looks down and read what he wrote, he felt his heart dropped.

_Choi Yeonjun, left wing, room one- twenty, Seoul Hospital, take the taxi to the northern entrance. Emphysema patient._

Soobin feels like he can finally come home tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after, and the day after...

-

Gradually, there's no more yesterdays nor tomorrows left. Just today.

It's half past eight in the morning, and the hospital is bustling full of people and chatter, but the second he sees room one-twenty, all Soobin can see is that room and the alleviation of vacancy, the dark glint under the gaps of the floor and the door.

The entire vicinity empties in the flash of second until all that is left is Soobin and the man inside the forsaken space. Quiet, colorless, surreal.

Choi Yeonjun, left wing, room one-twenty, Seoul Hospital, take the taxi to the northern entrance, Emphysema patient.

Soobin hesitates. He doesn't really understand where all the choking rancid comes from or why his knees automatically buck when he sees the room number. Then again, he doesn't really want to understand, until he just realized he's already been standing in front of room one-twenty for 15 minutes.

Contemplating if he's ready for what will welcome him, if he'll be ready ever. But as though the world plays with him, a nurse came out and urged him to get inside.

When Soobin looks at Yeonjun in the hospital bed, he's not sure if he's looking at a reflection or the original. It's almost as if time has worn away him from the outside, turned him transparent, left just enough of him to be a shadow. Soobin wants to talk to him, but the nurse says that it's unlikely that Yeonjun can manage, so he can only look down at the "Yeonjun" scribbled loosely at the back of his hand, and matched it to the "Choi Yeonjun" nameplate hanging at the end of the bed.

The seconds refract into monochrome colors over the bed sheets and Soobin counts them one by one as Yeonjun drags his body around. Feeble, whistling moans inflate the hush between them as he lifts a hand, which Soobin immediately clasps with his both hands.

"I love you," Soobin says, no other words left to say but those three words. He doesn't need Yeonjun to remember, he just wants him to know.

Yeonjun doesn't respond, though maybe the corners of his eyes flinch. Maybe his thumb twitches. Soobin looks at the monitor beside Yeonjun's bed.

There is an unsettlingly even stream of air gushing in and out of the bizarre metal apparatus by the bedside. Soobin traces his gaze over the plastic extending out of it and into Yeonjun's nose.

"I love you," he repeats. Everything ends too easily, but they hold it together with a thin string of hope.

Yeonjun seems to take an extra sharp gasp of air. His hand twitches in Soobin's grasp, and gradually he falls back to asleep.

Soobin almost begins thinking that it's natural, it's the routine, that Yeonjun is probably just tired, but the constant beeping from the monitor with green lines stops, and some kind of alarm goes off loud and noisy and a slew of doctors and nurses rush inside and shoulder him away, too far away, as they try to wake Yeonjun back up. And he realizes that this is all wrong, all of this is wrong. Wrong.

"Choi Yeonjun, time of death, nine twenty-seven, January third, two thousand and twenty one. Monday." Wrong.

It's not until Soobin has made it out of the hospital that the tears slam him on the face, knocks him off-guard and shatters his whole body into a thousand irreversible pieces.

Someone calls after him, when he turns to look, tears on his face, he sees a man likely in his age, red hair vibrant but his eyes are tearing too.

He watches something well up the boy's already reddened eyes with a breathless gasp or perhaps a sharp look of empathy. It's terrifying how easily this perfect construction of bones breaks down in slow motion. The boy gives in a tremble one at a time, unwinding at the seams into an eruption of noiseless wails. Forearms rubbing away tears and whole chest shaking with inconsolable grief. He eventually gulps everything down, hard.

The boy makes a little gesture of a wave, and it looks so fragile, "Sorry to bother you. I just thought, I'm just, I saw you there in Yeonjun's room. I'm Taehyun, his friend. I," the boy gulps hard, trying to compose himself, "I just wonder who you might be, who you are to my friend."

Soobin nods and takes in everything about this boy before him, the loosened tie, the heavy shadows under his eyes and the caved cheeks, the hunched back, the rushed heaving of his chest, straining against a white-pressed shirt.

"Oh," Soobin manages to reply.

He smiles even when his eyes are tearing, his lips trembling when he says, "Don't worry, I'm just."

He has no idea why the world seems to have ended on such a beautiful January day, or why he's sobbing in the middle of the street as if tomorrow will never come. Why the name on the back of his hand burns harder than any goodbye.

"Just a stranger."


	2. in another lifetime

_Maybe, someday, we will be two people meeting again for the first time_.

Choi Soobin has lots of crazy ideas, borderline dangerous and today's that time of the year again.

Soobin curses under his breath as he rushes to get into his morning class, late but preferably present.

If today is any indication of what would his college life be, Soobin thinks he's really doomed for what's to come.

Granted, it's probably his fault to begin with. The longer he thinks about it, he concludes, if anything, the entire thing is his fault. He willingly agreed to get buzzed at a college party the night before their second semester starts. The longer he thinks about it, the more his head throbs.

Choi Soobin is all about bad decisions and bad ideas. He thinks he's realizing the whole lot meaning of that right now. Damn, Soobin thinks, he really should get his head out of his ass for once.

He tries to tame his hair as he jogs to his building, his bag dangling on his shoulder haphazardly. He isn't really paying attention to his surroundings so when he bumps unto someone, rushed apologies quickly run out of his mouth as he helps that person grab his things that fell upon their collision.

He clenches his jaw as he apologizes furiously, silently scolding himself because this is the last thing he needs right now. He's really going to be late now. He's dead. He's dead. He's fucking dead.

Soobin doesn't really try to get a glimpse of that person anymore as he heard him mutter a silent it's okay dude, chill and apologizes one last time before dashing past him.

When Soobin realizes he's still holding a notebook in his hands, letters CYJ on the front page, he skidded into halt.

When he looked back, that person has gone.

-

This lecture is boring. Soobin crunches his face as he watches his professor humiliate one of his classmate for sleeping in his class.

Soobin bites the end of his ballpen as he leans his head on his other hand, elbow on the desk. In his defense, he can't really blame the poor guy. Their professor was boring and they've been going on and on about this book, of Dream Psychology by someone apparently written by Sigmund Freud.

He gathers words from him, of _five facts of first magnitude were made obvious to the world by his interpretation of dreams or the direct connection between dreams and insanity, between the symbolic visions of our sleep_ and the _symbolic actions of mentally deranged_ , or any of the big words _dissecting the dreams of his patients but not all of them present as much interest as the foregoing nor were they as revolutionary or likely to wield as much influence in modern psychiatry_ , and the funny reminders of _you are all psychology majors here, act like actual one_.

It's safe to say that Soobin doesn't understand any of it, his sleep deprived mind still buzzing from hangover.

He bites the edge of his pen hard before putting it down and glaring at his professor's back, tapping the pen lightly on the notebook on his desk.

"Fan of The 1975?"

Soobin jumps from his seat when someone beside him speaks, he turns to look at that person, raising his brows.

"What?" Soobin asks dumbly, pointing at himself.

It came out sounding silly, but Soobin was startled.

He raises a brow at the man and blatantly drags his eyes up and down his figure, checking him out. He seizes him, concludes that they are almost the same age. Sharp eyes. Striking blue hair. And thick lips.

Soobin knows a good looking man when he sees one.

"Did you not hear me?" The student beside him grins.

It's innocent, friendly even. There's no reason for Soobin to be rude, but this man unknowingly irks him.

"I did," Soobin rolls his eyes, "Don't bother me."

Never mind good looking, he's annoying.

He hissed and turned away from the guy, rolling his eyes as he directs his gaze again in front, tapping away more furiously this time.

"Go the fuck away and mind your own business."

The guy raised his arms, surrendering, and plastered a smile which Soobin can tell is supposed to mock him, "Chill, dude, I just have one more thing to say."

Soobin clicked his tongue, annoyed and gives the guy a sharp look, "What?"

The guy shrugs, annoying smile still plastered on his annoyingly handsome face when he points at the notebook on Soobin's desk, "That's mine."

Soobin squints his eyes at him, pursing his lips into thin line as he scans his face, "You're CYJ?"

The guy laughs and bites his lips, looking back to the professor for a second before directing his eyes back to Soobin, "Yup," he says, dragging the last letter as he utters it.

Soobin hugs the notebook to himself as he continues to scrutinize the guy beside him, gnawing his lips before speaking, "Proof?"

He raised a brow when the guy had the audacity to laugh at him, looking at him amusedly as if Soobin said something funny.

"You're cute."

He smirks when he sees Soobin sputter and blush from the neck up. Soobin suddenly have the urge to hit him with the notebook he is holding.

"Fuck you," he hisses.

The guy only chuckles, "I'm serious, I'm not lying," he raises his arms again while shaking his head.

Soobin snorts at him, "I asked for a proof, I'm not sure if you're really CYJ."

The guy stopped laughing, sighing heavily as he rolls his eyes, leaning back on his seat and facing Soobin fully.

"Well, then."

Soobin watches him intently as the guy offers a hand, tilting his head to the side.

"I'm Choi Yeonjun."

When Soobin opts to speak, he continues, "That stands for CYJ, is that convincing enough?"

Soobin's words fail him as he stares at him.

He's attractive.

Choi Yeonjun is attractive.

_And maybe, in that lifetime, we will be brave enough to love each other out loud._

_-cyj_

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
